The MORE Trilogy
Authors: T.M. Franklin
MORE Trilogy
By
T.M. Franklin
“MORE Trilogy” first published by The Writer’s Coffee Shop, 2015
Copyright © T.M. Franklin, 2015
“MORE” Copyright © T.M. Franklin, 2011
“The Guardians” Copyright © T.M. Franklin, 2012
“TWELVE” Copyright © T.M. Franklin, 2013
The right of T.M. Franklin to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the
Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters and events in this Book – even those sharing the same name as (or based on) real people – are entirely fictional. No person, brand, or corporation mentioned in this Book should be taken to have endorsed this Book nor should the events surrounding them be considered in any way factual.
This Book is a work of fiction and should be read as such.
The Writer’s Coffee Shop
(Australia)
PO Box 447 Cherrybrook NSW 2126
(USA)
PO Box 2116 Waxahachie TX 75168
Paperback ISBN- 978-1-61213-380-5
E-book ISBN- 978-1-61213-381-2
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the US Congress Library.
MORE
Cover Art:
Cover image - © Depositphotos.com / Francesco Cura
Cover design - T.M. Franklin
The Guardians Cover Art:
Cover image - © Depositphotos.com / Francesco Cura
Cover design - T.M. Franklin
TWELVE Cover Art:
Cover image - © Depositphotos.com / yblaz
Cover design - T.M. Franklin
MORE Trilogy Cover Art:
Cover image - © Depositphotos.com / Francesco Cura
Cover design - T.M. Franklin
Interior design -
JEM Book Designs
www.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/TFranklin
Chapter 1
He was close.
Ava pressed back against the tree trunk, trying to hold her breath but only able to manage it for a moment or two before her lungs gave out, air sawing out and in again desperately against her will. Rough bark rubbed the skin of her palms where she gripped the tree, scraped her cheek as she turned her head to try and catch a glimpse of him.
Darkness mocked her.
Nothing to see. No one to help.
She eyed the entrance to her dorm frantically, the lit doorway calling out like a beacon on the other side of the concrete bridge.
If she could only get there . . .
If she could only get behind that door—lock it fast—she would be safe.
Safe.
The word echoed through her panicked brain, foreign and twisted.
Could she ever really be safe while he was out there?
“Do it,” she muttered, inhaling sharply as tension rippled through her. “Just go.”
With a shove at the tree, she ran for the bridge, heels clacking loudly on the path as her muscles screamed. She glanced over her shoulder, catching a flicker of movement through the trees.
No!
Ava willed her legs to move faster, arms pumping in desperation—reaching out and pulling at the air, as if she could yank herself forward.
Her breath caught. She could hear him. Footsteps chasing after her.
No—footsteps
beside
her—now
ahead
of her.
Where was he?
The better question seemed to be, where
wasn’t
he?
He surrounded her—harsh breaths and pounding feet—a low, mocking laugh as she leapt from the bridge back onto the path.
Only a few more feet to the door.
Almost there.
She reached out, aching to wrap her fingers around the gleaming brass doorknob.
Then with a blur of movement and a gust of a swirling air, he stood in front of her, blocking the way. Huge, hulking, and shadowed by the darkness, he laughed as she recoiled in fear, falling backward in her haste.
“Did you really think you could escape?” he hissed, reaching toward her.
Fingers ripped the icy ground as she rolled over, trying to crawl away, rocks digging into her knees and her palms, a bit of glass slicing neatly into the meat of her thumb. She winced, lifting it to her mouth to suck the blood, feet kicking back as he grabbed her ankle.
He laughed again, jerking her back with one strong pull and dragging her effortlessly across the ground. He bent down, wrapping a meaty fist around her neck, and she clawed it desperately, unable to breathe.
Lifting Ava off her feet, he glared at her, a flash of light catching his angry, mismatched eyes—one blue, one green.
For a moment, she was almost mesmerized.
Then his lips curled in derision and he squeezed, cutting off the scream curdling in her throat.
Ava awoke with a start, fingers still scraping desperately at her neck, her skin clammy with sweat and fear.
“Ava?” Her roommate, Lucy, sat up in her bed across the room, flipping on the dim light by her pillow. “Are you okay?”
Ava inhaled deeply to get her racing heart under control. “Yeah . . . sorry.”
“Another bad dream?” Lucy sat up, shoving her pale blonde hair back off her forehead. Ava took a moment to resent the fact that even when woken from a sound sleep, her roommate looked impeccable—long, shiny hair which managed to stay untangled even in bed, cornflower-blue eyes, and flawless skin with a touch of pink on her cheeks and lips, even without makeup. It was only the slight crick in her nose that kept her from being
too
beautiful,
too
perfect.
And the only thing that kept Ava from automatically hating her on sight when she first met her. Well, that and the fact that Lucy Matthews was arguably the nicest person on the planet. Ava had taken one look at that perfect face, the tall, lithe frame, and automatically felt short and squat. Insecurity set in, even though she’d never been fat, and at five foot four was considered about average height. Ava often saw herself as Lucy’s non-mirror image—Rose Red to Lucy’s Snow White. Not ugly or even unattractive, just shadowed by the near perfection of Lucy’s glowing beauty. But underneath Lucy’s ethereal appearance beat an unselfish heart, and a rather dark and twisted sense of humor. It was only about five minutes after she walked into the dorm room on the first day of freshmen orientation two months earlier that Ava knew she’d met her best friend. Before the heat of summer melted into the cool of fall, she’d been proven right. Everyone loved Lucy. It was impossible not to.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ava said finally, yawning as the dream finally faded. “Sorry to wake you.”
Lucy shrugged, glancing at her clock. “It’s okay. The alarm was about to go off anyway.” She stretched, slipping out of bed and into her pink fuzzy slippers. “You want to talk about it?”
Ava shrugged. “The usual. Creepy man chasing me in the dark and choking me to death.”
Lucy grimaced. “Why can’t you dream about Duncan Johan like a normal person?”
Ava smiled. Lucy had discovered the BBC series
Robin Hood
over the summer and was obsessed about the actor who played the title role.
“He’s too skinny,” Ava said, purposely taunting her.
Lucy gaped in shock and threw a pillow at her. “How dare you! You know he’s perfection personified and will one day be the father to my rather gorgeous children.”
Ava giggled, getting out of bed and gathering her things for a shower. “
Skinny
children,” she said, earning another pillow. “At least that’s one thing about my dream attacker,” she said wryly. “The guy is seriously built.”
“Well, that’s something you look for in a crazed killer, I suppose,” Lucy deadpanned.
“At least he’s nice to look at.”
“While he’s strangling the life out of you.”