Taken By The Bull

You can read Taken By The Bull free below.

Blurb:

A paranormal, bull shifter romance. This is bull! At least, that’s what I thought when I was made to do a fluff piece on Steve Law, a local bull rider. There’s no denying he’s good at what he does. And yes, he’s ‘mouth drooling’ good looking.

But as a professional reporter, stories like this aren’t generally worth my time. At least that’s what I thought, until things took a turn for the strange! I soon discover Steve comes from a long line of bull shifters, and he of course is one too.

Now, reporters and game changing secrets don’t normally mix. But when it’s the secret of a man I’m fast falling in love with, will my reporter tendencies take a back seat? And will that even matter if Steve’s ex decides to take my head off? Find out in this hot shifter romance by Lizzie Alfson.

Chapter 1

“You know, they call it ‘the most dangerous eight seconds in sport’? That’s how long most of these rides last, before the bull throws them off. All these ‘rodeo clowns’ have to run in and distract the thing, so it doesn’t – HEY!”

The van lurched and jolted sickeningly, throwing her sharply forward. The tablet PC on the dash clattered to the floor and rolled underneath the seat. If it wasn’t for the seat belt holding her in place, she might well have followed it.

“Mikey!” She complained, gesturing in the driver’s direction with the dark-brown pencil in her left hand. “Are you having fun, playing connect-the-dots with every pothole and rock on the road?”

“Oops.” The man in the driver’s seat cast a sidelong glance in her direction, a smirk on his lips. “Are you having fun, trying to research our guy at the same time as doing your make-up?”

“They’re both equally important.” With a sigh of resignation she placed the kohl liner pencil between her teeth and leaned forward, almost bending double as she reached around under her seat looking for the tablet. She was about to give it up as a lost cause when her fingers brushed across the warm chrome casing and with a triumphant grunt, she retrieved it.

“You’d better not have busted that thing,” Mikey glanced her way before returning his attention to the road ahead. “You know how old man Minas gets when we mess with company-issued equipment.”

“I’d better not have busted it? Me?” She passed her sleeve over the device, front and back, and returned to it its clip-stand on the dashboard. She couldn’t be too angry with the guy; he was her driver, cameraman, editor, and one of her best friends to boot. “It’s fine, so it doesn’t matter! But give me a warning next time you see one of those baby canyons in the road, so I don’t go taking my eye clean out.”

If it wasn’t for the way that artificial lights and an HD camera conspired to make anyone unfortunate enough to be caught between them look like they’d just crawled out of the grave, Staci Wilder wouldn’t even have bothered with the powder and paint at all. But, it was all part of the job. Asking the right questions of the right people would only get her so far, if the viewers at home were getting all bothered about messy hair or dark circles under the eyes. It didn’t matter that the two of them had been stuck in traffic between Jackson and Biloxi for six hours, that she’d only been given an hour’s notice, or that it was her first big assignment. The people watching at home didn’t know – couldn’t possibly know – any of that. ‘You can’t argue with the cards you’re dealt’, her mother always said. ‘But if you know the art of bluffing, you can still win every time.’

“So, what have you learned about our guy?” The van slowed as Mikey wove around a truck pulled up at the roadside with its hood popped, smoke billowing from the engine. “Between bouts of beautifying yourself, that is.”

“Steve Law? Typical all-American success story.” She adjusted the fold-down mirror. Pursing her full lips in concentration, she brought the blunted tip of the kohl pencil to the lash-line of her right eye and cautiously returned to finishing her quick-and-dirty make-up job. “He’s ranked 21^st in the world on the Professional Bull-Riders circuit, and is only on the way up. If he comes out on top in tonight’s event, he’ll have won his last ten. His brother Seth is riding tonight too, but Steve is the one everyone is watching.”

“Why do we care, though? We – Pothole incoming!”

“Thanks!” Staci braced herself for the inevitable jolt. “We care, because Biloxi’s his home-town. So if his winning streak continues, we’ve got ourselves a classic local hero story.”

“Since when have we carried stories about bull-riders, though? What’s so special about this guy?”

“That’s a question I’ve been wondering, myself.” She couldn’t stop herself grinning, just a little. “I’m pretty sure it’s only because he’s cute as hell.”

*****

“Damn, I’ve known our Steve since he was fresh outta high-school, and he’s always been a real talented guy.” The old man in the cowboy hat leaned back against the barrier that separated the crowd from the ring, and flashed a wide smile right at the camera. “We always knew he was gonna be going places!”

Sure you did, Staci thought, smile never wavering under the scorching lights. Everyone always says that, when a local kid makes good. “So!” She almost had to shout to be heard over the clamor of the crowd. “What do you think of his chances for making this his third time at taking first place with the judges, here in Biloxi?”

“Oh, he’ll make his mark, I got no doubt about it, at all! Everyone knows, Steve’s a natural at this sport – no matter what Starbucks throws at him, he’ll always be one step ahead!”

‘Starbucks’. The name of the bull that Steve Law was slated to be riding that night. From the way everyone talked, it was as if the animal was almost as important as the man riding it. It was just another oddity that Staci didn’t understand; how could they all make such a big deal out of a beast that, under different circumstances, most of them would be happy to slap in the middle of a sesame seed bun?

“Well!” She shot the man her best smile, a wasted effort since he was squarely focused on the camera. “With a home-crowd like this, I’m sure he’ll do it!”

Turning to Mikey, she signaled for him to cut; the too-bright smile dimmed instantly as she sighed, and fanned herself with her hand. Was there enough time to get another quick spot with one more member of the audience before the man himself made his appearance? Probably not. “Thanks for your time, sir.”

“Not a problem, darling!” The old duffer in the hat switched his attention back to her, his smile widening. “Always got time for a pretty thing like yourself. How’s about you and me-”

“Staci, we got to get into position for the main event!” Mikey cut in quickly, gesturing towards an open space to the side of the press area. “Let’s go!”

Bless you. “I hope you enjoy the show, sir!” With a quick wave of her hand, Staci was already in motion, weaving through the crowd with her cameraman in tow. “Thanks for that,” she told him in a low voice. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to the ones who think that the smiley-happy act is for their benefit, and not for the camera.”

“Oh, he probably knows.” Mikey responded with a shrug. “Just trying his luck, is all.”

“This looks perfect. Here – let’s get in by the barrier.” With just a little elbow and a lot of maneuvering, Staci led Mikey to the best vantage point she could find. The bigger sporting networks had the best spots, of course; but that wasn’t going to stop her from getting the footage she needed to make this report good enough to run with. “How’s this?”

He gave her the thumbs up, and positioned the camera squarely. She moved to his side, one hand on the barrier, braced to ensure that anyone who was going to jostle Mikey and ruin the shot would have to get past her, first. “As soon as his ride is done, pan over to me, okay? I’ll say a little something-something about how amazing it all was, and we can get everything in a one-shot with the crowd going crazy all around us. Sound good?”

“Sounds like you got everything covered. He’s coming out of that chute on the far left, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She pointed to where the sturdy gate blocked off the moving figures inside, getting ready for the door to spring open and unleash the bull and its mount into the ring. “Michael Yeung, you better make sure you’re focused on the right spot, or I will slap you silly. Got it?”

“You sound like my mother! And my mother is batsh*t crazy!”

“I’ll be batsh*t crazy if my first real assignment gets screwed because our money-shot winds up being a stretch of sawdust and the feet of a rodeo clown.”

The voice of the announcer boomed out over the PA system. The crowd began to applaud, even before the gate slammed open. These people really love this guy, huh? She thought, shading her eyes from the floodlights. I guess-