Emotes (The Real World Series, Book One)

By Elizabeth Lord

“Vampires have evolved ... the Emotes are here”

By Elizabeth Lord

“Like most humans she lived in a white picket fence world, its colours and ideology muted for human understanding. The real world was far more violent and yet also more wonderful than she had any idea of. Once he revealed the real world to her, its real nature ... she would never look at it the same way again. She would see and recognise the hidden. Not only would she be changed in the way that she viewed the world but other beings would recognise her knowledge and might even seek her out”

“This planet has two worlds co-existing on it: there is the human world ... protected, muted and oblivious ... and there is the real world ... where the mortal exist alongside the immortal, the natural with the supernatural.”

“All your childhood stories ... fables ... Faery tales? Witches and Warlocks. Faerie folk. Vampires. Shape-shifters. Dragons. Merfolk. Werewolves. Ogres and goblins. All true. Every tale I've ever heard has either been factual or based on an element of truth”.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Lord
• Release date: Jan 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310059889

Elizabeth Lord

I'm married with one son. I grew up on the outskirts of London and Kent but have subsequently lived in various places throughout England. I currently live in The Midlands.I have always been a real book worm and love nothing better than to escape into a story. I can remember sitting in my bedroom when I was about five years old, writing a story about a cat. I decided then that I wanted to be an author ... it just took me a few years to start!I read most genres but particularly enjoy Fantasy: there is something about that genre that challenges the reader to open their mind, to explore their imagination and to let go of the mundane.I'd like to take this opportunity to thank readers for their support. Please come and find me on Facebook: I love making new friends!Kind regards, Lizzie.

Book preview

Emotes

Book one of

The Real World Series

Vampires have evolved … the Emotes are here

By Elizabeth Lord

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Lord

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedicated to my wonderful husband and son, who have encouraged and supported me in chasing the dream …

Elizabeth Lord can be found on:

Blog

http://lizzielord.blogspot.co.uk/

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https://twitter.com/_ElizabethLord_

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https://www.facebook.com/elizabeth.lord.334?ref=tn_tnmn

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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7075001.Elizabeth_Lord

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Or just follow the smell of coffee …

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents are products of the author’s own imagination. They are not real.

Any similarities supposed or real, to either real or fictional characters and/or stories are a total coincidence. Any deliberate references (i.e direct quotes) are stated as such. Any resemblance to people (alive or dead), circumstances, incidents or fictional works are completely coincidental and unintentional.

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any way without the author’s express written permission. The author can be contacted through Facebook.

Please remember that the author has worked hard to produce this book. To read this story without paying for it (unless through an authorised promotion) would be like you going to work but not receiving a salary.

Emotes

Book one of

The Real World Series

By Elizabeth Lord

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Lord

Smashwords Edition

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

William Shakespeare

Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be changed from one form to another.

Albert Einstein

There is no personal crisis so large that it can’t be helped by the love & companionship of real friends and the comfort of a good quality, soothing coffee

Elizabeth Lord

Readers,

I hope that you enjoy this book: if you do, I would be grateful if you could find the time to leave a review with your favourite retailer … as a new author, every review is important for me.

Thank you,

Lizzie Lord xx

Emotes

Book one of

The Real World Series

Vampires have evolved … the Emotes are here

By Elizabeth Lord

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Lord

Smashwords Edition

CHAPTER ONE

Ellie bent over as she opened the dishwasher and a whoosh of hot steam hit her in the face. Damp tendrils of hair curled round her flushed cheeks, as she removed the black and red colour-themed cups and saucers. She brought them back into the coffee bar, her face pink and hot from the steam. She stopped en-route, pausing in the doorway and looking around her. The cosy red and black décor looked good in the subdued evening lighting.

The clientele were different at this time of night: through the day, customers were mainly mothers that were either shopping or in-between school runs, retired folk and local shop workers or stall holders. There would be a lull in customers in the early evening, as the bar provided snacks, not meals but then the teenagers would start trickling in, along with people out for an evening stroll or on their way home from the nearby bowling alley and leisure complex.

Ellie smiled. She loved her job. They had a steady stream of regular customers … people she’d known most of her life. The tourists brought new stories with them and an eagerness to buy her paintings, which Millie generously allowed her to showcase on the walls of Café Noir. She would often sit and chat with customers: She loved that her job allowed her to do that and could think of few others that allowed such a luxury.

Noir was a sensual experience in itself, with its deep couches, tactile furnishings and air heavy with the scent of rich coffee, cinnamon, chocolate, vanilla and baked goods. It even had its own free lending library … a heavy, ornate book shelf unit filled most of one wall and was stuffed full with donated books for customer use.

She smiled at customers as she passed them. They were mainly locals, with only two tourists, both still dressed in garish shorts and flip-flops, despite the cooling night air outside. The woman appeared absorbed by one of Ellie’s woodland paintings and seemed to be trying to persuade her partner the value of purchasing it. Ellie placed the tray of crockery on the counter and stopped abruptly, straightening her back.

She’d felt him even before she saw him. She had her back to the rest of the coffee shop, ready to stack the cups and saucers. The noise of the crockery, combined with the gentle background noise of music and chatter, had hidden the sound of the usually creaky door opening. The over-the-door bell hadn’t even jangled when her back stiffened, the hairs on the nape of her neck prickled and her heartbeat increased slightly, seconds before she became aware of his scent.

It was hard to define. It reminded her of that clean, fresh smell that came after a sharp frost … mingled with a hint of freshly crushed mint leaves. She turned slowly, wiping damp hands on her black apron, willing her heartbeat to slow. She spoke to his wide chest. She didn’t dare raise her gaze to meet his black eyes: Black eyes that seemed to see too much, expose too much.

What can I do for you? she asked huskily, her words barely louder than a whisper. She realised the ambiguity of her words as soon as she heard her own breathless voice and a furious heat rose up her neck, to settle in her cheeks. She felt, rather than saw, his smile as he asked for a double espresso. She poured it with trembling hands and was grateful when he took it with no more than a brief word of thanks.

She sighed. She’d watched him from afar so many times and he’d never looked twice at her. The first time that she got to meet him up close and personal and how was she dressed? Barely any make-up on, hair scragged back into a scruffy ponytail, a plain-ribbed, long sleeved jersey and cropped, faded ‘I’ve-seen-better-days’ jeans with flat and battered ballet pumps. She sighed again, knowing that it would make little difference. A guy that looked like he did would never be attracted to someone like her: she was designed for comfort, not glamour.

She turned to gaze out of the window, at the darkened street beyond. It was so dark, compared to even the subdued lighting inside the coffee bar, that the reflective surface was mirror-like. She watched his impossibly tall figure walk purposely to the back of the room and settle at one of the quieter tables, situated in front of a squishy black couch. He draped one arm casually across the sofa back and used the other to remove a phone from the inside pocket of his long, black leather coat. She watched as he scanned down it, whilst sipping his espresso. She stared at the concentration in his incredible face and his long, sure fingers as they stroked the phone surface. She found herself mesmerised by the sight of his long, slim fingers and the way that they moved.

She watched him raise a hand and plunge those fingers through long, thick hair … that she herself longed to touch. His every movement was graceful and sensual, making her throb with unfamiliar need. She knew that she shouldn’t stand there staring at his reflection: that it was beyond rude … but she found it hard to drag her eyes away from the subject of her recent night-time fantasies. He’d haunted her every night for weeks and now he sat mere feet away from her.

Abruptly, his head snapped up. His black eyes met hers in the window. She jumped; startled by his acknowledgement of her watching him. He stared back at their twin reflections, his dark gaze pinning her to the spot. She nearly dropped the cup that she’d been pretending to dry. She froze, a deer in headlights, before squatting quickly down behind the counter … trembling as she pretended to tidy the shelves ... when in reality, she was trying to gather her wits enough to prevent herself from looking a complete fool when he came to pay his bill.

She crouched low, willing her heartbeat to slow and the heat in her cheeks to abate. Pressing her hand to her chest, she could feel the rapid beat of her heart. She could even hear the way that her breath had shortened into nervous pants. She felt like she’d been sprinting to catch a bus … and all she’d heard him say was thank you!

She called herself every type of fool, as she squatted like an idiot, wondering why she hadn’t simply smiled at him, instead of reacting in such an immature way. Her hasty crouch had screamed guilt and discomfort but had been instantaneous and instinctive: an escape from extreme embarrassment … but she’d actually made more of the situation than she should have she realised … had she simply smiled, it would have been a casual acknowledgement of an accidental glance. Her behaviour had revealed it to have been more.

James smiled to himself. He could feel the heat of her attraction and embarrassment. The colours collided: the deep red of her lust clashed with the purples of her discomfort and uncertainty. Even at this distance, it was enough to whet his appetite. He’d seen her through the coffee shop window and had entered on the spur of the moment, knowing that she was attracted to him, knowing that the chemical reaction fairly sizzling in the air would satisfy his current craving.

For now.

She was beautiful, in an understated, natural way. A tiny little package of curves and barely hidden feistiness. Her incredibly thick, multi-toned blonde tresses tumbled down her back in a roughly caught pony tail, defiant curls escaping to frame her pretty, heart shaped face. She had huge dark chocolate eyes that were reflective pools of emotion. It was as though they were the transmitters for her thoughts, feelings and desires. She wore some make-up, he noted but it was understated … natural. Likewise, her perfume wasn’t over-powering … it was subtle and pleasantly fruity.

He wanted her. Badly. Normally, the emotions that were triggered by the coven’s attractiveness were enough to sustain them. It didn’t fully satiate but it took the edge off the ever-present hunger that they felt. Tonight, he wanted more.

He shifted slightly, feeling his jeans tighten. He wanted to drive himself into her, he wanted her screaming his name … he wanted her oblivious to anyone or anything but him. It wasn’t sensible. It wasn’t practical.

Their coven moved from village to village, city to city, country to country … quietly, unobtrusively … using their appearance to entice enough emotion to feed them. They always moved on before people got too interested in their lifestyle or too attached to get hurt. They weren’t cruel … for the most part. It wasn’t practical to want to possess a young girl like this …but he wanted her so much that it physically hurt.

His conscience wanted to know what would happen when he left the village. It was one thing to pick someone up in a bar … someone looking for a one-night stand. It was another to knowingly seduce someone who might be looking for an actual relationship … something that he himself dare not have. He suddenly felt angry at himself. What was he doing here? Alone, without the guidance of his family? What was he hoping to accomplish? In one fluid movement, he stood, tucked his phone away and swept from the coffee shop.

When Ellie finally gathered enough courage to stand only a few minutes later, she found his table empty. Her head snapped round Noir but he was nowhere to be seen. Money had been left next to his drained cup. He’d gone. She hadn’t even heard the bell on the door rattle as he’d left. She felt a ridiculous pang of regret.

And shame.

He’d seen her watching him. Had he left because he was afraid that she’d try to pass him her phone number? The mortification of that thought burnt through her chest. A guy that looked like he did probably garnered unwanted attention all the time. She wouldn’t have even had the confidence to flirt, let alone ask him out but he wasn’t to know that: for all he knew, she’d been planning on going over and ‘chatting him up’. She was suddenly glad that he’d left as quietly as he had … relieving her of the ordeal of facing him.

CHAPTER TWO

Ellie sat with her friends in the Pig and Whistle: Her usual pub with her usual crowd. She’d been drinking in the social-hub of the village since the age of fourteen. Everyone knew everyone and the idea of ‘carding’ or asking for i.d was laughed at. Older, sensible teenagers were permitted in if they behaved and if they didn’t, they were thrown out and their parents notified. Police were never involved as it wasn’t necessary: the locals took care of their own. It was ‘that’ kind of town: steeped in tradition and seeing no need for outside intervention. They resented anyone, even the police, interfering in the way that the town was run. It was small and close-knit. Tourists viewed it as ‘quaint and picturesque’. They didn’t see the spine of steel that ran through the backbone of the population.

The pub was very old, with low beamed ceilings, wooden floors and dark, scarred bars. Tables, chairs and stools were a mis-match of eclectic styles and colours. The walls were crammed with mirrors, brasses, prints and photos. The ceiling had ancient farming implements and brass pots suspended from it. Shelves bowed under the weight of a dizzying array of dusty old ornaments that had no theme that Ellie could fathom. Old and young alike teamed up to play darts on the slightly wonky board or lean on the faded green baize of the pool table.

It was dark in a cosy and relaxing way. It was always busy but it was rare to see a stranger’s face there. The tourists seemed to prefer the modern open plan, chain-owned pub restaurant further along the street: with its large carvery, fancy coffees, expensive wines and designer lagers, uniformed staff and kids’ play area.

The locals