Watch Over You

By Elle Q. Sabine

Willa is accustomed to surviving on her own. She always has, until the day Nathaniel speaks to her. But within only a few days, Nathaniel has suddenly become more than a companion, and more than a protector. He's become a self-appointed guardian who she'd call a prison guard if she hadn't discovered bliss in his bite and comfort in his arms. But how can she believe he'll always be there, when no one else ever has?

Nathaniel has no doubts. He wants her, will have her, and keep her. Convincing her isn't how he pictured his first days with his mate, but he's hardly going to turn back now. Willa is his.

Watch Over You is a self-published prequel to the Vamp Hunters series, which relates the tales of Vampire who find their mates in this place we call earth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elle Q. Sabine
• Release date: Apr 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781484171080

Book preview

Watch Over You

VAMP HUNTERS

ELLE Q. SABINE

COPYRIGHT © 2013 ELLE Q. Sabine ([e-mail])

Published by Elle Q. Sabine.

Cover by Elle Q. Sabine.

Edited by Anne Perez.

ISBN: 148417108X (via CreateSpace, for paperback)

ISBN-13: 978-1484171080 (via CreateSpace, for paperback)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, transmitted by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, etc) without the prior permission of the author, above.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is considered stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed to the author and publisher. The author and publisher received no payment for this stripped book.

ABOUT WATCH OVER YOU

WILLA IS ACCUSTOMED to surviving on her own. She always has, until the day Nathaniel speaks to her. But within only a few days, Nathaniel has suddenly become more than a companion, and more than a protector. He’s become a self-appointed guardian who she’d call a prison guard if she hadn’t discovered bliss in his bite and comfort in his arms. But how can she believe he’ll always be there, when no one else ever has? Nathaniel has no doubts. He wants her, will have her, and keep her. Convincing her isn’t how he pictured his first days with his mate, but he’s hardly going to turn back now. Willa is his.

Watch Over You is a prequel to an upcoming series titled Vamp Hunters, which relates the tales of Vampire who find their mates in this place we call earth.

TRADEMARK ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

THE AUTHOR ACKNOWLEDGES the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:

Barney’s New York

Big Ten (NCAA)

New York Times

Clive

Neiman Marcus

Prada

Balenciaga

Givenchy

Brenda Lynn

Alexandre Plokhov

Marc Jacobs 

Bottega Veneta

Lincoln

Nina Ricci

Alexander Wang

DEDICATION

To SweetTarts.

And Mr. Sabine.

And a few other people who love me, and me them, dearly.

Yes, that means you.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Cover Page

Copyright Information

About Watch Over You

Trademark Acknowledgment

Dedication

Table of Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

About Elle Q. Sabine

Books By Elle Q. Sabine

ONE

YOU NEED SOMEONE TO watch over you, he observed, sitting back and lifting his coffee to his lips.

The noise in the coffee shop faded. Her head spun. She couldn't think, but focused only on him as around her the shop dimmed. His face, his expression, his demeanor, his settled position on one end of the upholstered love seat became her only world. For the last few weeks — she couldn’t say when he’d started appearing — this man had been present, his eyes on her as she rushed in and out, on her way to work or home. He wore expertly tailored charcoal suits over fitted, perfectly-pressed pastel shirts and ties, a little platinum pinkie ring on his right hand. He always read, his posture erect, as he sipped from his mug. Why could she describe him down to the last detail? Why did her subconscious recognize the streak of silver below his right ear or the angle of his Roman nose?

This time, again, his pale blue eyes were fixed on her, his lips compressed as he set his steaming coffee on the small table between them.

Willa said nothing but something showed in her face, or in her frozen posture. He recognized her response in the same way she knew the angle of his nose. He expected both the reactive flare and the vulnerable greed she hadn’t been prepared to conceal.

You heard me, he commented. "You need someone to watch over you — to care for you. And more importantly, you want someone to. You're almost desperate for it."

The blood rushed to Willa’s head. She shifted, wondering how he had divined what she naively had thought was a deep, dark secret. Slowly, so as not to spill, Willa sat her untouched mug beside his. Apparently she was easier to understand than she’d believed. Or maybe it was a lucky guess.

What gives you that idea? Willa asked after a long moment, trying to suppress any evidence of defensiveness in her voice. I've certainly never said so, not to anyone. And I've always taken care of myself. Always.

"Olim erat puellula. Someone must have cared for you," he murmured, his brows rising as his eyes stroked down her arms, over her plump breasts and further to rest on the hem of her skirt, just above her knees. She felt oddly warmed by the examination but immediately remembered to cling to indignation. How could he make her feel as though he'd just run his rough palm over those curves, so intimately she shivered with delight?

Have you never asked anyone for help, dear girl?

An endearment and a verbal prod at a decade-long sore place in her soul, all in one sentence. There was no such thing as a perfect man, so perhaps this one was psychic — or an axe murderer. Considering the two options, Willa hoped for an axe murderer.

So you're volunteering to solve all my problems? she returned. The words were harsher than she intended, practically announcing that he'd not heard even the beginning of her worries, fears and inner complaints. That's a bit much for a first coffee, isn't it? Especially since you don't even know my name. And you're not my date.

A tremor of shame washed over her at the unintended memory. Willa had lived over the bakery across the street for six months. The coffee shop had been a haven, for whatever moments she spent there each day. This morning, though, she'd paced up and down the sidewalk waiting for the virtually-organized man-date who'd never appeared. Now she realized her agitation must have been obvious to the shop's regular patrons, including the gentleman beside her. She'd chosen the location because it represented safety. Both the shop’s barista and her landlord the baker would have noticed if she was dragged off by, or even if she walked off willingly with, a stranger.

Hardly. I never date. He said it dismissively, as though it was obvious. The announcement didn't surprise Willa. It fit perfectly; she knew already he wouldn’t have the patience required to endure the tiresome game. As to the rest, he paused and looked at her intently, "I’ll call you Willa. You haven't specified what your problems are yet but I can identify some of them simply by circumstance. You have a job that isn’t intended to be a living wage, though I’ve heard you say you’d enjoy it in different circumstances. You’d be happy working in a proper school but no one in this decaying city has