TITLE: The Book of Generations
GENRE: Fantasy/Historical fiction
Setting: Garrit has just discovered the woman he's about to marry is actually Eve--the mythological figure, and also his great-great-great-great-great(etc) grandmother. His family has been sworn to her protection since the dawn of time, but now he's struggling with the facts. Eve/Nemi is trying to calm him down about it, but she's had about enough.
“It’s myth, Nemi. Creation is a myth!”
She was wet, and miserable, and he hadn’t even had the courtesy to shut the bathroom door before shouting at her. “Part of your myth is standing in front of you in a towel! Tell me that the thousands of lives I’ve lived are all lies.”
Garrit looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you are.”
She bit her lip. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”
“It’s all been a lie, then?”
“I hardly run about the earth advertising my reincarnations!” Her voice had risen, but she couldn’t bring it back under control. Of all people, he should have known better than to think such a thing. “My feelings, me, our relationship, none of that has been a lie.”
“I’m just supposed to accept this? Without any hesitation or reserve?” he asked.
“Your parents didn’t seem to be upset by it.”
“Bon Dieu!” She flinched. It was never a good sign when he slipped back into French. “That’s just great, Nemi. You tell my parents but you don’t think to tell your fiancé.”
“I didn’t tell them. They put the facts together themselves, just like you.” Only faster. And with less drama.
His jaw clenched. He hadn’t missed the implications. “Your portrait. In the hall.”
She sighed. “Yes. My portrait.” He would come to terms with it, or he wouldn’t, but she was shivering and he was blocking the door. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get dressed.”