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An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
Willing Submission
ISBN 9781419915192
Willing Submission Copyright © 2008 Evangeline Anderson
Edited by Shannon Combs.
Cover art by Syneca.
Electronic book Publication January 2008
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written
permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal
copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is
punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/)
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales
is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Evangeline Anderson
Evangeline Anderson
Chapter One
“Bring the captive here.” The deep voice sent a shiver through Kira’s bones but she
refused to bow her head even as the enemy soldiers dragged her roughly forward. They
threw her at the foot of the painted stone throne and she stumbled, shredding the
diaphanous silk of her gown and skinning her knees and the palms of her hands on the
rough steps that led to the seat of power.
Kira bit her lip against the stinging in her palms and knees and blinked back the
warm tears that threatened to well up in her golden-hazel eyes. To distract herself she
stared around the throne room, which was bigger than she had expected, and at the
throne itself. The huge chair was carved with strange beasts and monstrous gods.
Blood-red tongues lolled from between sharpened white teeth and cruel black eyes
stared at her, eager for her pain.
Kira took a deep breath. She had long known that the barbarians who inhabited the
lowlands beneath the holy mountain worshipped all manner of filth but she had never
expected to encounter such a graphic depiction. She and her sisters, the other
priestesses who lived on the holy mountain, worshipped only the one true goddess—
the mother of all life who had created them all. But the barbarians who were their
nearest neighbors couldn’t be expected to know that they were blasphemers—after all,
most of their pitiful excuse for a society was composed of men.
Men like the one who was standing above her now, giving her an inscrutable look
from his cold gray eyes. Kira wished, not for the first time, that she was wearing
something more substantial that the filmy ceremonial robes she had been traveling in.
The thin white material of her gown was almost see-through, clearly showing her full
breasts and tight pink nipples as well as the plump lips of her newly shaved cunt. Those
gray eyes taking a leisurely tour of her body made her feel even more naked than she
Willing Submission
had before. But instead of dropping her eyes and blushing, Kira stared back, studying
her captor as well.
He was dressed in black cloth that outlined his muscular chest and a wolf fur was
draped casually across his broad shoulders. It was pinned with a silver broach set with
a single dark garnet, so red it was almost black. He had thick black hair and he was
tall—taller than any of the tame males the head priestess, who was Kira’s aunt, kept in a
small village behind the temple. They were used mostly for heavy labor and
occasionally for breeding purposes. It was the duty of every child of the goddess to
attempt to bring new life into the world at least once a year. When they weren’t in use,
the males were mostly content to lie in their cots and breathe the dream smoke from the
special fires the priestesses kept burning in their village. Kira had seen them, lying with
their eyes half closed, happy expressions on their stupid faces as they slept the day
But the man who was standing above her looked anything but sleepy or stupid. In
fact, he wore a disturbingly intelligent expression on his sharp, hawklike features. The
way he was looking at her reminded Kira of a bird of prey eying a small helpless animal
it intended to devour.
“So this is the one,” he murmured in that deep voice that made her shiver. The
captain of the guards who had pushed her roughly to her knees nodded.
“This is the one the prophesy speaks of, my lord, I am certain. You have only to
look at her eyes to see it—golden as the sunset, just like the ancient texts say.”
“Prophesy? What prophesy?” Kira spoke for the first time, boldly addressing her
questions to the tall man with the gray eyes. He frowned but answered her.
“There is a prophesy written by the scribes of yesteryear that one would come—a
priestess from the mountaintop who was born in the first month of the year in the
winter snows. One who has hair as red as blood and eyes as golden as the sunset.” He
leaned down to look into Kira’s eyes. “You have the eyes and the hair, my lady. Were
you also born in the snows of winter?”
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