What are the Chosen? A secret group which serves an immortal Sempervian and is:

Called to serve
Honored to protect
Obedient to the vow
Safeguards of the truth
Enablers of life
Neutralizers of threats

In this scene from Alitus, Tales of the Chosen, Empress Rheyn Destoiya and her assistant, Alitus Vivaldi have had one of their rare arguments. Immortal, she is rarely able to find sexual fulfillment among mortals, except with her Chosen Alitus, whose pheromones can both excite and calm her.

She'd allowed him to rage at her as if she were no more than his doxy, and all she could think to do was stoop and pick up her gloves. He, above all people, didn't deserve her anger. She drew the gloves across the palm of her hand.

"Alitus." She could not bring herself to make eye contact with him. "I--I'm sorry." She hurried toward the door.

"Rheyn!"

Brought up short by his use of her first name--an intimacy he rarely allowed himself--she turned back. By some trick of the light, his blond hair glowed, its paleness diffused further by her tears. Stripped of his usual jacket, his plain dress shirt shone like white fire.

She waited for him to say something further.

Arms out at his sides, Alitus stood there, his submissive stance echoing her own futility. He sank to his knees, one hand over his eyes.

Destoiya hastened back to his side and knelt, gathered him in her arms. "Oh, Alitus. My love. My love..." She pushed her fingers through his silken hair, cradling his head against her.

"Oh, God, Rheyn." He lifted his tear-stained face to hers, shaking his head, the bloody whites making his eyes a brilliant blue. Wetness turned his blond lashes into dark, spiky points. "I'm so sorry. Please, please, don't leave me."

"I couldn't leave you, Alitus. I could never leave you." She drew him close and pressed his head against her shoulder.

Day in and out she relied so heavily on this man it slipped her mind how much she truly loved him. He was all man, grown from that sweet, virgin youth she'd fallen in love with. Where had the years gone? Over like a quick snap of her fingers.

Alitus sucked in a deep breath, shuddering. "I had no right to be angry with you."

"Shh." She kissed his wet cheek, dried his tears with her fingers. "Of course, you did, love. I pushed you far too hard."

Too late, she felt the result of the pheromones in his tears. Comforting him brought her under the chemical spell of his pheromones as easily as if he'd released them into the room. Heat bloomed within her as if they'd spent hours in foreplay. Droplets of sweat formed on her brow and between her breasts. Her mouth went dry.

She clenched a fist across her stomach. "Alitus..."

He pulled back, confusion on his face. Guilt transformed it. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean t..."

"It's all right," she whispered.

Every Sempervian bore a blessing and a curse--hers doomed her to a torment of sexual desire few human men could ever extinguish alone. A nightmare of unquenchable lust that wracked her days and turned her nights into bouts of perversion and twisted sexual escapades. Anything to escape the fire burning within her. A keening fire that allowed her no dignity. No shame. No rest. And Alitus--one of the few who could soothe her maddening heat--could also spike it unbearably with a single touch. She stood on shaky legs and staggered, stepping on her long hem.

Alitus rose and swept her into his arms. "Let me love you, Rheyn. Let me give you peace."

She tilted back her head, accepting his kiss, arms wrapped around his neck. Hot blood thundered through her veins, scorching her inside. Used to commanding her lovers, submission did not come easy. In her heart she knew he needed to dominate her tonight, take her, prove to himself she was his. Knew he needed to take her in *his* bed. Not hers.

He entreated her with kisses and swept his tongue inside her mouth. She moaned into his, sucking at his tongue, opening wide to coax him inside. Destoiya mated with his mouth, his honeyed taste bringing to mind a sweet brandy.

Intoxicating. Lush. Like him.

He nipped at her chin and throat.

A sob rose within her. Destoiya nestled against him as Alitus carried her from the room. His firm arms drew her in, held her fast against his muscled chest. His scent, a mix of apricot and peach when he was aroused, drifted to her. She inhaled, taking his pheromones deeper, deeper, right into her soul.

"I need you, Alitus. I want you inside me. Take me. Love me..."

"Yes, Rheyn. Yes. I love you." He kissed her, a wild coupling of mouth and tongue that left her breathless.

The simplicity of his bedroom--a big bed, a chair, bedside tables--underscored his elegance. The physical beauty of Alitus the Better fit here. The brocades and tapestries suited his golden hair, ocean-blue eyes and perfectly sculpted face. The heart of Alitus the Man wooed her, won her, whether they shared a palace or a hovel.

"Rheyn," he whispered her name as he set her on her feet beside the bed. "I love you. I will take care of you. Trust me."

He pulled down the golden brocade covers, baring the sheets. He knelt and wrapped one hand around her ankle.

"Put your hand on my shoulder." He steadied her as he helped her step from her shoes. Rising, he made short work of her dress's fasteners and let it fall to the floor.

She stood before him naked except for panties and necklace, the heat between her legs making her writhe. "I want you, Alitus. I need you so. Please, hurry..."