The Most Cherished by W.J. May

Author:W.J. May
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction Teen Abuse, Fiction coming of age, fantasy, paranormal, dystopian, coming of age, paranormal romance, paranormal fantasy, dark fantasy, superhero fantasy ebooks, fantasy witches, New Adult & College Romance Paranormal, vampires, paranormal shifter romance, shifter romance, shifters, shifter, fantasy new adult, witches, vampires and witches, superhero, new adult, new adult and college, New Adult & College Romance, w.j. may, chronicles of kerrigan, Tudor, supernatural, England, romance, mystery, tattoos, superpowers, boarding school, series, Young Adult, factions, teen young adult survival stories
Publisher: Dark Shadow Publishing
Published: 2021-04-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

“Jasper?”

The man didn’t move, not even to breathe. He was so frightfully still, it looked as though he’d been carved out of stone. Antony kicked his chair, with no response. He tried shaking him.

“Jaz—wake up.”

I took a step closer, staring him over curiously.

He was younger than most of the other people in the bar, no older than we were ourselves, and despite a life of heavy work and even heavier drinking he looked as fresh and unblemished as newly fallen snow. His golden hair seemed to halo around him on the table, glittering in the light of a candle, half-submerged in a puddle of rum. His tan skin looked smooth as butter, flushed with warmth despite the cooler air leaking in through the curtained window.

Antony kicked him again. This time, there was a marginal response.

“Go ’way.”

One hand reached blindly for a knife strapped to his belt. He missed and grabbed a half-eaten drumstick again. Nevertheless he threw it weakly, hitting Antony in the legs.

At that point, Will and I turned with the same accusatory look.

“He’s just drunk,” Antony said reassuringly. “Trust me, it’s going to be fine.”

He’s just drunk. At nine in the morning.

“Jasper,” he said a bit louder, giving him another shake. “Come on—open your eyes.”

There wasn’t a sound in the tavern. The dog was feasting on a fallen baguette. The old man with the dishrag shook his head slowly at our failed attempts, looking absurdly grave.

“To hell with this,” Will muttered, stalking to the window.

In a single motion, he yanked the curtain off the glass—flooding the little booth with rays of blinding sunlight. Jasper cried out as though he’d been stabbed, reeling backwards in his chair.

“Son of a...” He held up an unsteady hand, wincing. “...Antony?”

There was a split second of silence, then he sprang from the table with a cry of delight.

I watched from a shy distance, unable to keep from smiling as the two men embraced. It didn’t seem to matter that one of them was dripping rum and the other was supposed to be at the palace, nor were they at all concerned with the apocalyptic scene around them. They fell into a stream of eager chatter—speaking in a strange, lilting dialect at a pace I couldn’t hope to understand.

It was like the rest of the world had fallen away.

Despite the people sleeping around them Jasper threw his head back with a sparkling laugh, flipping Antony’s chin-length hair. Antony rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, and the two of them laughed again. It wasn’t until Will cleared this throat that he gestured us forward with a grin.

“These are my friends.”

The layers of implication were too many to ignore. Friends from the palace. Friends he was travelling with in secret. Those kinds of friends. Yet Jasper turned to us with an easy smile.

“It’s a pleasure...” He did a quick double-take when he saw me, glancing at Antony for confirmation before lifting my hand for a sudden kiss. “A real pleasure. My name’s Jasper.”

I stiffened nervously, forcing a smile.

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