Delaney lunged forward, dropping to a knee and catching Mark as he slid out of the chair. Grunting, he swung the smaller man into his arms and kneewalked to the couch, gently laying his burden out on the cushions and doing a brief check for injuries. Apart from rising bruises on one arm from his assailant’s grip, his mate seemed to be all right. Delaney’s coyote howled to shift and track down the thieves, then tear the shit out of them for daring to lay a hand on his mate. His human side overrode the instinct, remembering the conversation he’d overheard. Those bastards wanted something from Trickster, something they thought Mark would have. The question is, what? I’ll figure it out later. Right now, I’ve got bigger problems. He sat back, studying his mate. As he’d guessed, Mark had a runner’s build with long, lean legs that looked like they could go for days. His upper body was toned without being over-muscular, and a slice of nicely taut abs showed in a gap between his t-shirt and shorts waistband.
