Book one of Adelia Laurentis series [COMPLETED]
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Adelia Laurentis never let her peculiarity define her. Then he came and turned her life upside down. Her arrival was unexpected and looking back Elijah wouldn't have it any other way.
She was...
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The vessel of your body can consign Your soul to the fires of love divine From which fires all wisdom can disperse Essences beyond all insights of verse.
- Rumi, Love Divine
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"You seriously want me to believe he is your husband?" Jenna raised her brow, looking between the two.
"I am," Elijah gestured towards his wife.
"He is," Adelia shrugged.
"Oh please!" the human made a face. "I have heard better excuses. Like my wife is dead or like she never died, but sorry, I had no idea she pretty much existed." Adelia opened her mouth when Jenna interrupted her again. "Or is there some weird relationship between you two? Like maybe your husband," she pointed at the witch, "is your niece's stepfather."
"I will clearly remember a niece in our family," Adelia laughed, but pursed her mouth when Jenna glared at her, "... or I might not remember. I have a poor memory."
"Tell me the truth! I am tired of lies. Don't you dare lie to me, Lia," the Sommers woman hardened her glare.
"Elijah is my husband," Adelia answered with a sigh.
"He is not."
"I certainly am," the Original smirked.
"No, you are not," Jenna turned to him.
"He absolutely is," the witch bit her lip in contemplation.
"Of course, I am," Elijah rolled his eyes. "Why don't you take a seat, Miss Sommers?"
"I came here for solitude and that she would understand me and I find this! What is wrong with you people? First Alaric's not-so-dead wife arrives and now you are saying that Lia is married to you and has been your wife all along?"
"Yes?" Adelia offered, taking a seat next to her as Elijah got up to walk in the kitchen space.
Jenna turned to her. "You seriously slept with him and he is seriously-"
"-my husband indeed."
"Why did you lie to us?"
"We never did. Nobody ever inquired about our respective spouses," the witch fidgeted with a lock of hair, "and maybe our intentions were more nefarious than we cared to admit."
"Nefarious intentions. What do you mean? Elijah's not a writer?"
"If by a writer, you mean procrastinating in journals, sure," she replied.
