It was now or never.

And Waverly was currently leaning toward never.

She’d lived down the hallway from him for two entire years, and she’d only spoken to him a handful of times. For made-up reasons, of course. ‘There is a mandatory meeting this afternoon.’ ‘I saw someone looking into your car earlier today. Watch out.’

She wasn’t proud of that last one.

Truth be told, she only had a couple of months left until she graduated college with her education degree, and she had to grow some courage at some point in her life.

Why not now?

Biting her lip, she nodded her head and glanced down the hallway as he pulled out his keys and began to lock his door.

Were those new jeans? She liked the way they looked on him.

Stop it. Stop procrastinating. Go. For. It.

“Do you always talk to yourself?”

Part of her was shocked she’d said any of that out loud, and the other wanted to turn to her neighbor and stick one particular finger in his face.

“Do you always stand silently behind your neighbors and gawk at them?” she asked, digging her keys from her cluttered purse. Why were there so many things in her purse?

His laugh traveled along her spine and worked its way to the back of her neck. Ethan made his way down the hallway, and her heart stumbled silently. “Hey!” she said loudly, not wanting to miss her chance.

Ethan smiled, his blond hair falling onto his forehead like some rom-com movie. “Hey, Whitney,” he said.

Whitney. He called her Whitney.

To regain what dignity she had left, she shouted, “See you later, Eddie.”

He gave her a weird glance over his shoulder but didn’t respond.

Her neighbor laughed loudly, holding his stomach and tossing his head backward. “Oh, you’re a piece of work, Girl. Eddie, right. I’m guessing your name isn’t Whitney? How sad. You’re gawking over your neighbor that doesn’t even know your name.”

Waverly turned on her heel and came face-to-chest with him, the new neighbor, whatever his name was. He was tall, which wasn’t saying much because she was short herself, but he towered over six feet, easily.

She was lady enough to admit that he was good-looking. Probably more so than her crush, but this guy talked too much.

He had too many opinions, and she felt opinions were like assholes. Everyone had one, and she had no intention of hearing his.

“Listen …”

“Drake,” he answered.

“—Drake,” she said. “This has been fun and all. Your inability to mind your own business really brings on a good time, but I don’t need a recap on my life. Thank you and have a good day.”

She stuck her key into the door dramatically.

Drake leaned against the wall between their apartments. Oddly enough, he was a quiet neighbor. No hitting of the headboard at 1 AM, or loud music. He just seemed to always be there.

It was creepy. “Don’t give up, champ. If you keep stumbling over words and hanging around outside your door to catch him, he will eventually realize how desperate you are.”

Waverly slid her tongue over her teeth and mimicked his laugh from earlier. “Your conversation skills really need work, Damien. Why don’t you run into your apartment and find something to do other than stalk random women.”

Drake chuckled. “Sure thing, Waverly."

She was shocked he knew her name, but she wouldn’t show it. Shoving her door open, she leaned against it and sighed. Her cat, Rory, stared at her from the kitchen counter.

“Down,” she hissed, shooing Rory who took her time. Her cat didn’t even pay any attention to her.

How sad.

Waverly kicked off her shoes and took down her hair. She had a shift at Bubba’s in thirty minutes, and she couldn’t be late.

She worked there most nights to pay her bills. It wasn’t the nicest establishment. It was a restaurant aimed toward men. So the outfits were to appease them. It wasn’t Waverly’s first choice in a job, but they were few and far between since the town was a college town.

She fed Rory, got dressed, and tied her dark brown hair into a high ponytail. The fact that her shorts were getting tight around the waist hadn’t gone unnoticed. Those freshman fifteen had settled to the sophomore twenty and now she was at the senior thirty.

Sighing, she grabbed her purse, and her keys before leaving.

She drove a rundown Honda, like every other girl living in that apartment complex. This wasn’t an apartment that rich kids were sent to. It was for the ones that struggled to pay their own bills and didn’t have parents that could afford another monthly payment.

The door creaked when she opened it, and the engine stuttered but she got there right on time.

Tying her apron around her waist, she walked into the back door and into the kitchen.

Her shift started right as the night rush began, so the kitchen was a madhouse of servers and cooks going at it. Sarah walked past her with a tray full of hot wings, her boobs pushed to her chin.

She didn’t blame her. The tips were better that way.

“Oh, thank God, Waverly. Here,” she said, shoving a ticket book at her. “Can you please go take half of my section? I’m swamped.”

“You bet,” Waverly said, grabbing her time card and clocking in.

She maneuvered passed the crowd of servers, tossed her head into her manager’s office to say hello, and walked toward Sarah’s section.

There were three tables — a crowd of college students, a couple, and one guy sitting to himself. She walked over toward the group, tossed down menus, and grabbed their drink orders.

The couple was ready to order, so she took down their requests and slid a menu in front of the guy to himself.

He glanced up from his phone, and Waverly cursed under her breath.

“Seriously? Here I thought you only stalked me at my house. Silly me? Why wouldn’t you come and harass me at work.”

Drake chuckled, his daring blue eyes were playful and it irked her. “I wouldn’t be a good stalker if I didn’t follow you everywhere. We can tell who isn’t a true crime junkie.”

“What do you want to drink?”

“Water for now, and a beer. Whatever is on tap.”

She left to go grab their drinks when she heard someone shout at her.

“Waitress.”

She hated being called that.

She turned toward the group of college students and glared. “Waverly,” she responded, pointing toward her name tag. “What can I get you?”

“Our drinks,” the redhead in the group shouted. “Or is that too big of a task for you?” she added sarcastically.

Waverly’s eye twitched, and she noticed Drake turned to look at her. The glare of fear on his face stunned her. Did he know them?

“I’ll be right out,” Waverly said with a plastic smile.

She felt Drake’s gaze on her back as she walked into the kitchen.

Something felt so wrong, and she was about to find out why.

Now she’d gone and done it. As if her smart mouth wasn’t enough trouble, now she was testing the waters.

Not that she knew that the redhead she was challenging was a vampire.

Nicole Jenson, actually. The daughter of the royal family over the southern region.

The family was ruthless. No boundaries. If someone, human or not, stepped on their toes, they’d go missing within the week.

Drake couldn’t let Waverly go missing. It was his job to protect his mate.

Which wouldn’t be easy since she was dead-set on getting away from him, and pretending he didn’t exist.

Drake eyed the table across the row. The redhead looked pissed, her gaze on the kitchen door where Waverly had walked into to gather their drinks.

One of the other vampires at the table noticed Drake and tossed him a head nod. Drake returned it. Maybe if he was nice he could talk them down if he needed to.

He’d moved into the apartment complex a couple of weeks before because he’d smelled her. It was a random day at the mall. She was with one of her school friends and passed by him with no knowledge that he was her fated mate.

Drake followed her home, and may or may not have, slipped some weird stalker letters under her old neighbor’s door until she moved out, giving him the chance to move in.

It was desperate but he had to get close to her. Being away twisted his stomach into knots. Once he did move in, he realized she was in love with the guy down the hallway.

Not that Drake was worried about him. He couldn’t even remember her name.

The kitchen door swung open, and Waverly walked out with a tray of drinks. Drake couldn’t stop himself from watching the way her hips moved when she walked.

She was curvy, her blonde hair pulled back out of her face with soft curls swinging with each step. Waverly looked plucked from his wildest fantasy, and it’d been torture to keep his distance.

She stopped at the booth behind the vampires, sat the drinks down, and began to hand them around the table. Nicole stared daggers at her. Drake clutched his fingers into a fist, listening as she took their order, and how they changed it at least five times.

Waverly’s neck and cheeks were red from irritation. Drake prayed that she didn’t do anything stupid. She was close to graduating and really didn’t need the job as much as she pretended.

Would she quit? He’d rather her quit quietly than tell them where to shove it before doing so. She wouldn’t make it back to her apartment.

She delivered the couple's drinks and appetizers and brought over his beer and water.

“What can I get you?”

Drake glanced over his shoulder at the table, and Waverly folded her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up in the process. “Do you want me to ask her for her number? You have the balls to eavesdrop but not talk to a girl?”

Drake took a swig of his beer. “I think you should watch what you say to them.”

Waverly chuckled and turned the page on her ticket book. “Thank you for that, but as you know, I don’t hold back when disrespected.”

Drake met her emerald gaze. “Maybe that’s something you should learn.”

Waverly chuckled. “Maybe minding your own business should be on your list.”

He smiled. “I want the biggest burger on the menu, rare.”

She grabbed the menu from the table, and he swiped his arm out and grasped her wrist. “I’m serious, Waverly. Be careful with them.”

Keeping eye contact, she slid her hand from his and walked back into the kitchen. She kept her distance most of dinner, laughing with the other servers, while Nicole kept a close eye on her.

She’d pissed her off, and his fear grew by the minute. Drake couldn’t let her leave this building without him. By the look on Nicole’s face, she was pissed, and Drake didn’t put it passed them to hurt Waverly.

Waverly walked the check over to their table and sat it down. “Can I get you anything else?”

Nicole sat back and glared at her. “Did we ask for the check? Are you rushing us out? I bet your manager would love to know that you’re rushing your customers out of the restaurant, wouldn’t he?”

Waverly’s gaze shifted toward his, but she ignored the facial expression Drake gave her. “You don’t have to leave now. Who said you did? It’s protocol to hand your customers their check once they’ve finished eating.”

Nicole narrowed her dark eyes at Waverly, but Waverly didn’t flinch. “I don’t like your attitude.”

“I don’t care,” Waverly snapped back.

The hairs on the back of Drake's neck stood on end. One of the vampires with Nicole put their hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her down, but she shrugged it off. “Come on, guys. Suddenly I’m ready to leave.”

They shoved passed Waverly, paying their ticket on the way out, and leaving her with a terribly messy table. Waverly rolled her eyes and began to clean their mess.

Drake watched them walk into the parking lot and make a turn around the side of the building where Waverly parked. They weren’t leaving.

Waverly walked the dishes into the back.

He didn’t know her schedule, but he knew that he couldn’t let her leave this building without him. How would he tell her that he was a vampire, and she’d pissed off a royal? He had no idea, but he needed to come up with a plan.

Waverly came to check on him and looked down at his empty plate. “Here is your ticket—”

“I want pie,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, leaning forward to write down the pie he wanted on the ticket. “What kind?”

The scent of her strawberry perfume doused him. “Anything strawberry is fine. It’s my favorite.”

“We have strawberry cheesecake?”

“Sure.”

She stood up and tilted her head. “You’re awfully observant to know that group would be rude to me. Do you know them?”

Drake leaned back. “Somewhat.”

“I don’t like ‘em.”

“They don’t like you either, apparently.”

She smiled. “I’ll be back with your pie, and then you need to leave. You hanging around is scaring away my customers.”

He had no intention of leaving.

Drake was staying until Waverly left the restaurant, and most likely, she was going to need some saving tonight. Call him, Superman.