Trickster

by Nicola Cameron

  “All right, sweetie. Have a good night. And don’t forget to call Devlin first thing tomorrow.”

  The call ended. With a sigh, he slid the phone into his shorts pocket and started his stretches.

  ****

  Taking a deep breath of the warm evening air, Mark jogged along the apartment complex road. His usual path was once around the complex, then out on the street and through an adjoining neighborhood that catered to people with salaries in the high six figures. Normally he liked looking at the different architecture types and gardening styles as he ran, but tonight Smith’s face kept swimming into memory.

  Damn the man. Why did Smith have to come on so strong, anyway? Mark was used to being hit on by gay guys; with his height and build, he knew he fell squarely in the twink category. But they usually shrugged and smiled apologetically when he told them he was straight. No harm, no foul. Hell, if he was honest with himself, he usually felt flattered by the attention.

  But not with Delaney Smith. Something about the tall, lanky man nagged at him. No, it pulled at him. And he had no freaking idea why.

  Something moved in his peripheral vision. He glanced over and saw a low shape moving between the cars parked along the side of the street, a flash of brown fur and a fluffy tail. Oh, shit. Someone’s dog got loose.

  He stopped, panting and leaning over. Suburban drivers could be particularly careless, especially at night. If he could convince the dog to come to him, he could check for a collar and, please God, a tag with a phone number. “Pooch?” he called, slapping a thigh. “C’mere, boy.”

  Nothing. He walked out into the road, expecting to see it hiding next to one of the cars. But the road was empty.

  He added a whistle, peering under the cars. “C’mere, boy. I won’t hurt you. I just want to check your collar.”

  The animal didn’t appear. Frowning, he went back to the sidewalk. That’s really weird. I could have sworn I saw a dog. He waited another moment, then shook his head and started back into his run.

  This time, he didn’t see the shape following him.

  ****

  Now pleasantly sweaty and achy, he jogged back to the apartment complex. Opening his door, he flashed on storming out of Smith’s office that morning. Good thing he didn’t come after me, right?

  Oddly, part of him didn’t agree. Oh, for God’s sake, just stop thinking about him. You can go talk to Devlin tomorrow. What he needed now was a hot shower, a quick jack-off session while thinking about his girlfriend, thank you very much, and then maybe he could get some sleep—

  Two men jerked up as he walked into the living room. He had enough time to see his laptop bag, very obviously open and rifled through on the sofa.

  Panic slammed into him and he spun, grabbing for the front door handle. Before he could get out a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, dragging him backwards. “Get back here, you little shit,” a deep voice growled.

  Mark found himself flying through the air and landed awkwardly on one of the easy chairs, gasping at a bright flare of pain from his hip. Scrambling, he tried to climb over the side but was yanked down again.

  Wincing, he looked up at a tall, heavyset man with wavy red hair and bad skin in dark clothing. The other burglar, a shorter man with greasy brown hair and a thin mustache, came around the couch, holding the empty computer bag. “Where’s your laptop?” he said.

  “W-what?”

  “Laptop,” Greasy repeated, hefting the bag and sounding annoyed. “Don’t fuck with us, man. Just give us the goddamn laptop.”

  Mark’s eyes widened in horror. After Smith’s blatant come-on, he’d been too pissed off to go back to his cubicle, going home instead to fume. Which meant that his laptop was still on his cubicle desk. “A-at work.”

  The thieves glared at each other, then at him. “What kind of dumbass leaves his own laptop at work?” Greasy said.

  “This one,” Red said, looking disgusted. “Get up, dumbass. We’re going for a drive.”

  Mark’s gut went cold. If he got in a car with these two, chances were nobody would ever see him again. “Look, I’ve got my d-desktop in the office,” he said, holding up his hands. “You can take that. It’s brand new, worth way more than my laptop.”

  Greasy’s eyes narrowed. “You do any work for Trickster on it?”

  Confusion joined fear. “N-no, but—”

  “Fuck this,” Red said. “We need the laptop. Come on.” He leaned over to grab Mark’s arm.

  Greasy suddenly screamed, dropping to one knee and clutching his leg. Blood spurted between his fingers as a hair-raising snarl ripped through the room. “Dog! He’s got a fucking dog!”

  Mark froze as a large grey-brown shape bounded forward, crashing into the larger man’s knees and knocking him to the floor. Bellowing, Red lashed out at the animal, and its jaws closed on his wrist, viciously tearing at it. A gun tumbled out of Red’s jacket, sliding partway under the nearby sofa.

  The dog moved until it was in front of Mark, growling. Panting in pain, Red tried to kick backwards, bumping into a whimpering Greasy. The smaller man rolled onto his hands and knees and scrabbled away, heading for the bedroom.

  The larger man got to his feet, clutching his dripping, gory wrist as he stared at his attacker. He tried to inch towards the sofa and the gun. The dog shifted position, ready to lunge.

  Red grimaced. “Oh, fuck this,” he muttered, turning and lurching after his partner. The dog chased him out of the room, and Mark heard a banging noise and squawks coming from his bedroom. After a minute the dog trotted back into the living room, stopping a yard away from the sofa. It licked gory red droplets from its chops.

  Oh, my God. That’s not a dog. In shock, Mark recognized the long legs and bottlebrush tail. That’s a coyote. A fucking huge coyote.

  Coyotes were hardly a rare sight in North Dallas. Having been evicted from their native territory during the height of suburban construction, they had returned in the last few years with a vengeance, making new niches for themselves in the suburban landscape. But the local animals he’d seen before usually stuck to the underbrush and open lots on the city’s outskirts. This coyote, however, had not only decided to enter his apartment, it went after his attackers. It didn’t make sense.

  Swallowing hard, he sat up, praying it wouldn’t turn on him next. “Nice coyote,” he said, slowly raising his hands. “Good coyote. I donate to the Sierra Club and Greenpeace, okay? Please don’t bite me.”

  The coyote’s head rotated to one side, tongue lolling out of its mouth. Mark suddenly had the weirdest feeling that it was laughing at him. It licked its chops one last time, then sat down on its haunches and stared at him.

  “Okay. You’re sitting down. That’s ... good?”

  The animal seemed to sigh. It got up, and Mark cowered. “Good coyote, good coyote. No biting,” he babbled.

  The coyote rolled its eyes at him. Then it shimmered and disappeared.

  In its place, quite impossibly, stood Delaney Smith. A very buff, very naked Delaney Smith. Stunned, Mark found himself at eye level with the other man’s groin. It was impossible to miss the thick, dusky cock hanging between muscular thighs.

  Smith raised his hands in what was obviously supposed to be a calming manner. “I can explain,” he said.

  Mark was rather proud of the fact that he nodded, as if getting attacked by thieves and rescued by a horny Trickster executive who could also turn into a coyote was all perfectly normal. Just another day in the life of Mark Fellows, ha ha.

  Still nodding, he passed out.

  Chapter Three

  “Aw shit.” 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 shi
t 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.

  Delaney couldn’t help looking further down, at the good-sized bulge under the dark blue material. His mouth watered, and he swallowed hard. This close up, the mating scent mixed with Mark’s clean sweat and the tang of fear, and was just this side of overpowering. It took everything in Delaney’s willpower not to lean over and pull Mark’s shorts down, lick that gorgeous cock and feel it grow thick and hard in his mouth, listen to Mark’s moans as he woke up to ecstasy—

  Mark moaned, stirring. Delaney realized he was half crouched over his mate, and hurriedly leaned back. As for his already half-hard cock... Well, maybe Mark won’t notice.

  After a moment the human opened his eyes, blinking groggily at him. “Wha...” Some of the glassiness cleared, and he struggled to sit up. “You.”

  “Yeah, me.” Delaney raised a hand in a wave. “Welcome back, by the way.”

  “No. I mean, you— You were the—” Mark’s face went pale, and he looked like he was about to pass out again.

  “Just lie back,” Delaney said quickly, urging him back down. “Long deep breaths. Try to relax.”

  Surprisingly, Mark obeyed, but those blue eyes never stopped staring at him. “You changed into a human. From a coyote. You were a coyote.”

  Delaney took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m a coyote shifter. It’s kind of like being a werewolf, except that it’s not a curse and I can shift whenever I like.” He winced at the look of disbelief on Mark’s face. “Look, I know this all sounds crazy, but you didn’t hit your head or anything when you passed out. I can show you right now and shift back, if you like.”

  Mark bit his lip. “Uh ... yeah. Do it.”

  Delaney backed away from the couch, then concentrated. The familiar buzz ran through him as he shifted, and suddenly he was much lower to the floor and the room was in crisp black and white. He panted and let his tongue loll out of his muzzle, trying to look cute, before shifting back. “See? It’s all real.”

  Mark had wriggled into a sitting position, still staring at him. “Wait. That was you following me, wasn’t it? While I was running,” he accused. “I thought you were a dog.”

  Delaney grimaced. “Yeah. I know I should apologize for following you, but on the plus side it meant I was here to chase off those assholes.”

  Some color came back into his mate’s face, which was a huge improvement. The rising scent of anger, however, wasn’t. “Why are you following me?” Mark demanded. “Did those guys have something to do with you?”

  “No, although I heard them asking you about your laptop and Trickster. I’m guessing they thought you might have brought restricted files home with you.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. Besides, my laptop’s still in the office.” He glared at Delaney. “Mainly because you tried to kiss me this morning. What the hell was that all about?”

  “Yeah, about that.” Delaney settled back on his heels, wondering how to phrase it. “Shifters can smell their mates. It’s kind of like meeting your soul mate, only we get confirmation with our noses. The long scientific explanation involves pheromones and matching body chemistry, but the short version is, I scented you the moment I walked into the office. It took everything I had not to go find you and beg you to go home with me.”

  Still upset, Mark glanced away. Delaney could see a flush of pink along one cheekbone. “I’m not gay. I already told you that.”

  Delaney laughed softly. “Yeah, well, my last three girlfriends are going to be really surprised about this, too. But the mating bond doesn’t give a rat’s ass about sexual orientation. It happens when it happens, and you just have to roll with it.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m not ... one of you.” Mark waved at him. “I’m just a regular human, and I’m damn well not your mate.”

  The frayed cord of Delaney’s patience unraveled just a bit more. “Fine. Prove it.”

  “How?”

  “Kiss me.”

  “What?”

  “Kiss me,” Delaney repeated. “Just a plain old kiss, no tongues or anything. If you’re not my mate, then you won’t feel a damned thing. And if that happens, then I’ll leave you alone. You won’t even see me for the rest of your contract with Trickster.” Of course, if Scott hires you that’s going to be a whole ‘nother kettle of fish.

  Mark looked torn. “And if I feel ... something?”

  Delaney shrugged. “Then you give me a chance. Go on a date with me, get to know me, let me get to know you. I swear to God, I’m actually pretty personable when my dick isn’t trying to drain all the blood from my body.”

  That dragged Mark’s attention downward, and his eyes widened. “Jesus. You’re—”

  “Hard. Yeah, I know.” Delaney looked down at his throbbing cock and sighed. “If I can ignore it, so can you. Just kiss me once, and we can get this all over with.”

  “This is insane.” But he could already hear Mark’s heartbeat speed up. “One kiss. And no tongues.”

  “Shifter’s honor.”

  Mark muttered something under his breath, then nervously licked his lips before puckering them in a perfect duckface.

  Delaney grinned. “Really? That’s how you kiss someone? No wonder you haven’t gotten to first base with your girlfriend.”

  Mark pulled back, stung. “You’re the one who suggested it, asshole!”

  “Okay, okay. Look, just relax.” He moved closer to the couch, acutely aware of the velvety upholstery rubbing against his aching dick, and gently slid his hand around Mark’s jawline. He could feel the muscles there flinch, as if readying to pull away. “Seriously, just relax,” he breathed. “Let me lead?”

  As he expected, Mark’s pupils had already dilated again at his touch, and heartbeat and respiration were speeding up as well. “A-all right.”

  “Here we go.” Delaney leaned in, brushing his lips against Mark’s. The simple contact sent an electric spark dancing through him, grounding out in his balls.

  The effect wasn’t one-sided either, to his relief. Mark made a soft, hungry noise, lips slowly but definitely pressing back against his own. Delaney kept his tongue securely in his own mouth as promised, but that didn’t stop him from savoring the plump feel of his mate’s upper lip sliding between his own, or the way their mouths caught and clung together.

  He pulled back just enough to look into Mark’s dazed eyes. “Should I stop?”

  “Wha?” That damned tongue came out again, slicking and teasing at the same time. “N-no.”

  “Okay.” Delaney dove back in, losing himself in the warmth and sweetness of Mark’s mouth, the way the other man responded so passionately. He was just about to try nibbling his way down to his mate’s jawline when he heard a soft clanking noise.

  Mark pulled away, dazed and blinking. “That’s my phone.”

  “Oh.” Delaney sat back, rubbing his tingling lips. “Yeah. You want to get that?”

  “Um.” The other man fumbled in his shorts pocket. To Delaney’s delight, the action pulled the fabric tight against what was obviously a half-hard cock. Finally Mark pulled the phone free and swiped his thumb across the screen, reading it. “Oh. It’s Caren.”

  “Your girlfriend?”

  “Yeah. She —never mind.”

  Delaney wanted to pluck the phone out of his mate’s hand and read the message, but refrained. It’s bad enough I’m pushing him like this. I don’t need to look like the world’s biggest asshole as well. Instead, he sat back, trying to drag together the last shreds of his s
elf-control. “I think you need to call the cops and get them over here. And I better go before that happens.”

  “Oh. Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Mark sat up slowly, tugging his t-shirt down so that it covered the bulge at his groin. Delaney got to his feet and his mate blinked, staring at his cock. “You, uh ... you’re still...”

  “Hard enough to cut diamond.” Delaney gave him a wistful smile. “I can’t help it. It’s what you do to me, babe.”

  Mark blushed. Knowing he had to be satisfied with that for now, Delaney shifted and trotted out of the room.

  ****

  Shaken, Mark called 911 about the attack, leaving out the bit about the shape-shifting coyote who claimed to be his mate. The police arrived minutes later, one officer taking his statement while the other prowled through the apartment.

  He came back to the living room minutes later, looking grim. “They came in through the balcony door in your bedroom. Cut a pane of glass right out of the door and opened the dead bolt and lock.”

  Mark felt sick. “Can you get fingerprints or anything?”

  “We’ll have CSI come out and print the door, but I’ve got a bad feeling they’re not going to find much. These guys are definitely pros.” He glanced at the splashes of Greasy’s blood on the carpet. “We’ll probably have an easier time doing a DNA match from that, if they’re in the system.”

  The officer who had taken his statement shook her head. “Can you think of any reason why they might have targeted you, Mr. Fellowes?”

  A tension headache was building behind his eyes. He forced himself to think. “They kept talking about my employer, Trickster Tech. They must have thought I had company information on my laptop. But I never bring anything like that home.”

  The police officer frowned at that. “Sounds like they had a specific target in mind, then. It’s up to you, but I’d strongly suggest that you stay somewhere else, at least for tonight.”