Trapped by the Prince’s Bond

Chapter 1 “Ithaca” POV Cassy I live in the kingdom of Ithaca, in a time when more males are born than girls. Girls are highly sought after. Poor families are forced to send their daughters off to the marriage auction. I stand on the auction floor at my assigned number. While various men come over and poke at me. One weirdo has a measuring tape. ‘Psychopath, probably measuring us for our fur,’ Cush, my wolf, says. A tall lycan with brown eyes, a black suit and a fancy clipboard stands in front of me for a good ten minutes. “Do you have white or gold wolves in your family?” he asks with an eyebrow raised. “Um, not that I know of.” “Do you know how to play chess?” he asks. “No.” “Would you be interested in learning?” “If he’s not a quack with a measuring tape,” I growl. ‘Well, we know he’s not coming back,’ Cush teases. “He seemed to have high expectations.” I tell her. A handsome wolf in a fancy suit has the nerve to pull down my dress to have a peek. I slap him across the face, and he just stands there and smiles. ‘Masochist,’ Cush mumbles. “We're steering clear of him!” I tell her in my head. I feel someone squish my ass and turn around to hit him, but he bolts. ‘Pervert,’ Cush says. “Will you shut up, Cush? You’re not helping my nerves any!” I say inwardly. ‘Look, handsome wolf walking this way! Look at that hot piece of ass!’ “Shut up, Cush.” ‘You’re letting the good ones just walk on by, Cassy. What's wrong with you? Wiggle your ass or something like blondie over there.’ “That blond chick is probably destined to be a pole dancer. There will be no ass wiggling!” The auction starts, and I watch the section that has my sequence of numbers. They get to my number, and the pervert and masochist are voting intensely with the clipboard guy. Eventually the clipboard guy gives up, and it dangerously close between the pervert and the masochist. ‘Find a washroom or something quick, Cassy. This is not going to end well for us,’ Cush whispers. I start walking towards the hallway. “Hey you!” A guard yells. “Get back to your assigned number.” I do a little pee dance and do my best to convince him I can’t wait. “Fine, you have three minutes, not a second more,” he says, pointing to the hallway. I ran through the hall and into the bathroom. “Damn it, there aren’t any windows.” ‘Tick-tock, tick-tock, Cass.’ “Shut up, Cush.” I hear banging on the bathroom door. “People need to pee! Hurry it up!” A girl yells and continues pounding on the door. I start pacing the tiny bathroom. What I need is a plan. ‘Maybe they have a fire alarm,’ Cush says. “That’s good. Now I need a backup plan.” ‘Just run, go rogue,’ Cush says. All right. I open the door, and the girl practically falls onto me. “Ugh, too much perfume! Are you trying to kill someone?” I ask the girl. “Get out of my bathroom!” The girl barks. “No, make me!” I snap. The girl shoves me into the hallway and slams the door. I stumble into a lady. “Cassandra?” the woman says, looking at a piece of paper. “Yes.” “Come with me,” she says. “I’m supposed to go back to…” “Shush,” the woman cuts me off. “Speak only if spoken to.” ‘I say we hit her really hard and run,’ Cush says. “And get arrested?” I say to Cush. The woman grabs me by the arm. “Your washroom trip made us all super late. I hope you're proud of yourself,” the angry woman says. I’m guided to a fancy limo with nine other girls and driven all the way to the top of the hill. The limo stops right in front of the Lycan palace. My eyes go as big as saucers. The palace is beautiful and old, surrounded by gardens and fountains, with a breathtaking view of the town of Ithaca. We’re all herded out of the limo like sheep, then divided into two groups of five after we’re throughly check over and, yes, measured. A guard grabs five of us and starts to walk us back outside. “Eric! Stop, I’ll take her.” A lycan giving off a powerful aura shouts. “Yes, Your Highness,” the guard says, stepping away from me. My eyes go all moon eyed; I’ve never met royalty before. The lycan puts his arm gently around my waist and guides me back with the other five girls. The six of us are all sent into an office. As soon as I walk in, the smell of peppermint hits my nostrils, and I feel dizzy, like I’m in a trance. The source of the smell is sorting through papers, not even glancing our way. “Prince Sebastian, the girls are here for you to choose from. They’ve been picked over by your father,” Hector says. “I don’t want a bride. I don’t have time, Hector. This is ridiculous.” “Pick one, parade her out when you need her for the public and shove her in her room when you’re busy.” “You make it sound like I’m choosing a pet.” “Wives are kind of like pets,” Hector says. “Fine, I’ll take that one,” he points without looking, right at me. ‘He picked us!’ Cush does a dance in my head. Sebastian turns around and sees he’s pointing at me. His eyes narrow, and he throws a book with the title Ithaca through the glass window. “For f**k’s sake. I don’t even want this.” I feel Cush pout in our head from the rejection. “Where’s father?” Sebastian growls. “Other side of the door,” Hector says. The door slams loudly. There’s a lot of screaming on the other side. Then it’s quiet. We spend the next week under orders from Sebastian’s father to follow his son around. Sebastian has the cutest dog named Rusty. He likes to jog shirtless in the morning. Then warrior training and takes two lumps of sugar with his tea. He hates vegetables. I watched him throw a whole bowl of salad at the chef, screaming, “Who eats this s**t?” He is handsome, breathtakingly handsome. His aura radiates power and authority. His gorgeous baby blue eyes pull you to him like a magnet, making you melt into a puddle. He is covered in tattoos all over his finely toned muscular chest. He has brown hair with blond highlights in a messy boy band cut. I just want to step close to him and run my hands through his hair. Whenever he says “Good morning” in his deep and sexy voice, we all blush and sigh in unison. The only thing wrong is his temper. He’s delightful, and the next he’s violently smashing anything he can get his hands on. A week passes, and then two. It’s like he is enjoying us following him around. His little groupies, cheerleaders when he spars against others during training. We fetch him whatever he wants from the kitchen. Sebastian’s father, Ethan, suddenly walks into Sebastian's office and says it’s time to let one of us girls go home. We all stand there panicking. He points at us girls without looking. “That one.” He points at me!