Fated for the Dragon: Dragons of Lake City, #4

By Kellan Larkin

Wolf shifter Sam thought he lost his one shot at love after the tragic passing of his fated mate in high school. Now he's single-mindedly dedicated to his lifelong dream: becoming an archeologist. As a senior at Waters College, he's poised to make it—if only he can impress Professor Stephen Saltz.

Stephen has never felt the burn of desire that other dragons describe for their mates—until he meets Sam. He knows he risks breaking all the rules of his profession when he asks the bright student to help with his research project. Stephen can't resist the smoldering attraction he feels, but he'll have to convince Sam that he has a second chance at love.

Just when they make a momentous discovery in their research, everything falls apart: the funding is pulled and their careers are thrown into jeopardy when Sam discovers he's pregnant... with a dragon shifter's baby.

This standalone novel has a HEA. No cheating, no cliffhangers. You can fully enjoy this title without having read others in the series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kellan Larkin
• Release date: Dec 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386528296

Book preview

1

Sam

I shifted my backpack on my shoulder as I followed the stream of students into Hunt Hall, home of the anthropology department. Sunlight filtered in through the huge glass windows as I made my way to one of the smaller seminar rooms on the second floor, and I double-checked my phone to make sure it was silent.

Being a senior in undergrad was kind of like being a senior in high school, I had decided. I felt inexplicably cool. I had one foot in the river of social activities going on after classes and on weekends, and another foot in daydreams of what I’d do once I graduated. I had plenty of those.

Shifter Archaeology II with Professor Stephen Saltz was going to help me achieve those. This semester, I’d have to complete applications for the graduate program in Shifter Archaeology at Pinewood Univerity, a shifter school an hour north of Lake City. The place I was studying at now, Waters College, was also a wholly shifter school, unlike the bigger Lake City College.

Ever since I was a kid watching Indiana Jones movies, I’d wanted to be an archaeologist. I had worked hard ever since to reach that goal. Graduate school was the next step, and after accumulating impeccable grades and a stellar résumé, I knew I’d have it in the bag. As soon as I got a recommendation from Professor Saltz.

The man was a juggernaut in the field, publishing practically a new paper every year. He was almost the backbone of the department here, despite not being the chair, and since the department was half the reason I had chosen to come here instead of Lake City College, I knew I had to aim high and

impress

him

.

But what I wasn’t expecting was how hot

he

was

.

As I took my seat in one of the rows of the lecture hall, I found my eyes glued to his tall, broad frame, which was standing at a podium. He was peering at a laptop computer and clicking around, seemingly unaware of the students

filing

in

.

Finally, he seemed satisfied and looked up, his bright green eyes flitting over the assembled students, like he was looking for someone in particular. His dirty blonde hair was tousled rakishly, and his shirt was unbuttoned on top. But worst of all, his sleeves were rolled up, revealing golden-haired, muscular forearms.

Guilt rose in me like bile. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about anyone.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I had to focus on this class if I wanted to get anywhere. Professor Saltz was a notorious hermit, and he focused on his research for most of the year. He came out of his cave to do this class only once a year. Sometimes I wondered whether his elusiveness was intentional or not. It was as if the man actively tried to cultivate an air of mystery.

The biggest mystery of all, and one my fellow students had speculated on many times, and in many conversations, was what kind of shifter he was. We couldn’t ask, of course—it would be incredibly rude—and he didn’t give off the kind of clues others did. I had

no

idea

.

He glanced at the clock; it was a couple minutes past the hour and he should have started already. He cleared his throat and stepped down off the podium, so he was pacing in front of it. The room was small, so I could see him clearly, but maybe it was just because he filled the space with his presence.

So, you guys know the drill. He stopped pacing and turned to look at us, his hands clasped behind his back, revealing a broad, muscular chest, defined even under the thin fabric of his linen shirt. You’ve already taken most of the other classes required for the major. You’re veterans. You’re serious about archaeology as a career. He paused. Am I right?

There were only twenty or so of us in the class, so we all hesitated. No one wanted to answer his question, if it turned out to be rhetorical. But he was looking at us expectantly.

Y—yes, I said, my voice trembling—what was that about?

Very good. He lifted his chin and regarded us, dignified. The man was so regal. Maybe he was a big cat, like a lion or tiger.

I’m here to challenge you. If you’re serious about your studies, then maybe you’ll rise to the challenge. If not, maybe you’ll continue to enjoy archaeology as an area of personal interest. Either way, my job is to root out the very best and send them on to promising careers.

I glanced around the class; no one seemed to have any idea how to respond to him. We were glued to our chairs, all collectively holding our breaths.

He took a stack of papers and started passing them down. When my paper reached me, I saw that it was a syllabus. Even from a quick scan down the calendar, I could tell that this was going to be a ton of work. But it was going to be worth it. I was going to come out of here as a newly minted archaeologist.

I just hadn’t counted on Saltz being so hard to impress.

As you can see, we have three major papers. These will constitute the entirety of your grade. I’m not here to fluff it up with homework or participation points. If you become an archaeologist, you will be judged based on the merit of your research—just like in this class.

I was glad I had frontloaded all my required classes; everything else I was taking this semester was easy, so I would be able to devote time to

this

one

.

I expect you all to make use of office hours. He started pacing again, stalking along the front of the room like some kind of bored predator. I couldn’t help but notice the economy of motion he displayed; his movements were fluid, precise, like he really wore his skin, rather than just living in it. I am fully willing to give you the best possible chance of succeeding by giving you feedback on your papers. I want to help you. I am here to help you. I’ll say it again: if you want to succeed, come to office hours and allow me to help you with your paper.

A tingle went up my spine when he said that, and I chastised myself. I was imagining being alone with him in his office. That confident personality was intoxicating, and I found myself just staring at him in wonder. No one had ever captured my attention like this. I hadn’t found anyone attractive since high school.

I couldn’t tell if this was going to be difficult, or if it was going to make things easier. But I did know one thing—I really, really wanted to impress Professor Saltz, and it wasn’t just because I needed the recommendation.

I still felt exhilarated as I walked back to my room, emerging into the sunlight changed. Why in the world had none of the older students warned me about how wildly attractive Professor Saltz was? It wasn’t just me, was it? He was practically like a Greek god, with that jawline and those muscles… And when I had walked past him as I left, I had caught a whiff of his scent, a musky perfume combined with the comforting smell of a campfire. I had had to restrain myself from walking up to him and pressing myself into him, breathing deeply.

I hadn’t counted on this class giving me so many weird new feelings. It wasn’t just that I was attracted to him, or guilty of feeling attracted. Those two feelings were congealing into something else entirely, and what it was, I didn’t know. I was so confused.

I turned the key in the lock of my door and went in, pleased for the millionth time that I had managed to snag a single room. While having a roommate had been fun, this was going to be a breath of fresh air. I wasn’t going to have to deal with guys bringing girls home at every hour, littering the room with beer bottles, or making the place reek of cigarette smoke and weed. Nope. This was going to be my very own space.

And because of that, I could set it up the way I wanted to. I’d always had a photo of me and Tobias at summer camp up, but I’d felt weird hiding it, telling my roommates that it was just a friend who had passed away when I was in high school.

Tobias had been way more than a friend.

He had been my fated mate. We had known since we were kids; we were lucky to have found each other so early in life. We had been in the same clan of course, and since our parents knew each other, we hung out all the time. We became best friends. And when we got a little older and entered middle school, we came to the realization that we were fated mates.

Of course, we hadn’t known this at the time. We just knew that we had something special. Adults always told us that we’d find our mates much later in life, when we actually started dating and having adult relationships. But even as our sexual desires and romantic feelings started to blossom, we grew into the realization that we were meant to be together forever.

And when we’d come to our parents and told them this, they’d supported us fully. Most shifter clans were cool with gay shifters, so that was never a problem. Some other adults told us we couldn’t know yet, but we did. And with our parents’ blessing, we decided to show our love to the world, going around and referring to each other as what we were: fated mates.

The next few years had been some of the best of my life. Others were jealous, I could tell. I could even see the envy glowing in the eyes of adults. We were young, carefree, and profoundly in love, the kind of love that happens once a lifetime. We were fated. As the years passed, I understood the weight of that word more and more. We weren’t yet old enough to get married, but we knew it would happen

someday

soon

.

All of that had been taken from me in the blink of an eye. I got the call from my mother, who had gotten the news from Tobias’s mother. He and his father had been in a fatal accident with a semi truck.

They’d been killed instantly.

The grief was earth-shattering. Not only had I lost my love, I had also lost the chance at having a full, complete life. My fated mate—my one shot at happiness—had been killed. I immediately started to get help and comfort from older wolves who had lost their mates due to sickness or old age, but they couldn’t truly bridge the gulf. I was just a teenager, totally lacking in life experience, while they were decades old. They had had the chance to spend a lifetime with their mates, growing together, accumulating memories. I had had just a few short years.

No one could

help

me

.

But in time, I came to terms with it. I started to understand that as blessed as I had been to find Tobias so early, I also was cursed to lose him. I poured myself into my studies and got into Waters. I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. Slowly, quietly, I closed the door on the thought of ever finding a partner. My fated mate was gone. I would live life alone.

But in his memory, I kept this photo in my room, so I could remember the happiness we had shared. I had never cared to date anyone since, and it didn’t matter, anyway, because I never even found anyone attractive. No one sparked my interest. No one could compare to Tobias.

That was why Professor Saltz startled me so much. I couldn’t be attracted to him—it was impossible. Why was it that he, out of all the people I had met since Tobias’s death, was the one who caught my eye? It was inexplicable and unnerving. I didn’t like the feelings he gave me—the tingle in my spine, the guilt that made me squirm. I wanted it all to

go

away

.

But I needed this class if I wanted to have a shot at the top Shifter Archaeology programs in the country. I needed Saltz’s recommendation. I needed this class for my major, and as a prerequisite to applying for graduate programs.

This was going to be a painful semester, I

could

tell

.

But I had survived much worse.

2

Stephen

Samuel Horn was like a lightning bolt in a clear

blue

sky

.

I’d never found anyone so attractive in my life. Even considering the fact that I worked at a university and saw many youthful, good-looking people on a regular basis. No, Samuel, or Sam, as he had told me he preferred to be called during roll, was something else entirely.

I didn’t know how to deal with these feelings. I hadn’t been so magnetically drawn to someone in decades. As a young dragon going