Two minutes later and Lucy Sheffield would’ve been mated to that...tool of a dragon. It wasn’t like he wanted Lucy for himself. She simply deserved better than the pathetic-excuse-for-a-Draco that had been standing beside her at the altar. What had Tristan been thinking, arranging for her to be married to a Draco who couldn’t protect her? Geezer had been the weakest dragon in their clan for the last fifty years. The Draco seemed content to squat at the bottom of the totem pole. Sure, his family had wealth and stability, with a castle built on northern lands, but what did that matter? Geezer would never know Lucy the way Caleb did. “You...” Lucy sat up and rubbed her hands over her eyes. He smiled. “Me.” “Caleb? Where am I? What happened?” Kneeling in front of the chaise lounge in the post-claiming chamber, Caleb became hyperaware of the Dracos surrounding them, watching their every move.
