Blackstone Ranger Chief

technically their boss. But he’d worked with them for five years now, and he also considered them friends, Gabriel especially since they’d known each other since grade school.
“Yeah,” he swallowed as his breathing became shallow. “I’m fine.”
Gabriel’s expression turned serious. “I know this is a lot for you, being out here.” The lion shifter lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t have suggested it except that you’ve been working your ass off for a week and deserve to relax. Plus, it’s Tuesday, so I thought it wouldn’t be packed. But with that blizzard keeping everyone cooped up last week, most people are rarin’ to get out.”
Right now, there were maybe a dozen people spread across the floor, but when he imagined it full of patrons, it was enough to make his chest tighten, and his bear started to get antsy. To say that crowds weren’t their thing was a big understatement. The animal growled, and pain burst from behind his chest as its claws raked and its block head slammed against its human cage.
Back in high school, his tenaciousness on the football field had earned him the nickname The Demon, and he had carried it through his career in the Special Forces. But now it seemed the moniker was apt for different reasons. Reasons he’d rather forget.
He focused his attention on the woman. “I need a drink,” he declared before stomping off toward the bar.
His eyes never left the woman in the wedding dress. Though her back was turned to him, he could see that she had long blonde hair tumbling down her bare shoulders and back. The crystal-studded torso clung to her curves, then fabric poofed out around her knees. As he drew nearer, his bear went eerily still. His gaze was fixed on the top of her head when she turned around.
Vivid blue eyes the color of pansies met his straight on, unblinking. Her face was … perfection. A pert nose, high cheekbones, golden tanned skin, and lush lips that parted with a sharp breath. Locks and locks of shiny golden hair framed around her face.
But the thing that had made him and his bear stand up and take notice was the feeling that slammed into their chest.
Mine.
What. The. Fuck.
The Demon in him roared at the discovery. Honestly, Damon had thought that after that incident—the incident—landed him an honorable discharge from the army, his bear would be too broken and damaged to recognized its mate.
Or maybe it was and she wasn’t their mate. After all, she was in a wedding gown so that meant she was taken, right?
The growl from The Demon rattled from his chest and was so loud, it made Tim snap his head toward him. “You all right there, Chief?” the polar bear shifter asked, a bushy white brow raised high.
“I-I’m fine. Whiskey, please,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Double shot.”
The woman—his mate—had turned away from him and was now hunched over her shot glass, which Tim had apparently refilled. Before he could even take a breath into his now rapidly-deflating lungs, she wrapped her fingers around the glass and drank the shot straight, pulling her head back dramatically so her blonde curls shook like waves of gold. Although she grimaced, she managed to slam the shot glass down and then waved her hand at Tim.
“Excuse me, bartender. Sir,” she called out. “Can I have another, please?”
Her voice was soft and delicate, her tone posh and polite. Where did this woman come from? She certainly wasn’t from Blackstone. Except for his stint in the army, he’d lived here all his life, and he would have recognized her. Hell, he wouldn’t have been able to forget her if their paths had crossed before.
As if sensing he was staring at her, her head turned, and her pansy-colored gaze narrowed at him. “Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer,” she snapped.
There was a spark of fire in her, and it only lit up his nerve endings—in a good way. His body was practically vibrating with need, and The Demon roared approvingly at their mate.
Clenching his teeth, he turned away and grabbed the glass Tim had set in front of him. He tossed a bill on the bar, not bothering to wait for his change.
Fuck me. He never thought he would meet his mate. Most shifters didn’t have one, at least as far as he knew. His own parents, who were both Kodiak bear shifters like him, weren’t mates, and they seemed content. No one really knew how you could find or meet your mate, but rather, you just knew. But that woman—that possibly married woman—was the other half of his soul?
No thank you.
The Demon did not like that one bit. It wanted him to go back and claim her, declare to the world who she was.
Not happening, he told his bear. They were not fit for a mate. Not since the incident. And certainly not after the fallout from it. He couldn’t risk it. Not again.
Gabriel looked at him with concern. “You okay, man?”
Damon considered the lion shifter one of his best friends. He was the one who pulled him out from the darkness when he came home after being discharged. Kept him distracted after what happened and tried to make his life somewhat normal again. And, despite hating the outdoors, Gabriel even applied for the job with the rangers with him so he could keep him company throughout the training period, and even stuck around all these years when Gabriel didn’t even need a job or the paycheck.
“Yeah.” Damon took a swig of the whiskey. The burn did nothing to calm The Demon down, but the taste helped to ground him. Thankfully, it took a lot of liquor to get a shifter drunk, which was the only reason he didn’t turn into a raging alcoholic or drug addict after leaving the Special Forces.
“So, is she even hotter up close?” Anders said.
A growl got stuck in his throat as Damon managed to control his bear. “Didn’t notice.”