I couldn't be jealous. I was lucky to even have a dragon suitor. Mr. Gryffyd Evans was over a century old, showing more than half his years, and not one of the omegas he'd chosen for a rut had survived childbirth—although several of the children had, all girls, long since grown. I'd been born in an unfortunate year, just a few months shy of having qualified for the last selection, and now by far the eldest omega available for the upcoming one. According to absolutely everyone, and most especially my parents, I ought to be delighted to be all but claimed by Mr. Evans.
