| Saiyajin Storm Chapter Three |
| Author: Lisa Starr Rating: NC-17 Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or the characters attributed to the series. |
| She watched as he approached her from the shadows, sleek and silent, like a black panther on the hunt. She felt a shiver run violently through her at the sight. Was he hunting her? Was she his prey? "Vegeta," she whispered hoarsely as he stepped into the ethereal glow of the moonlight. "What are you doing?" He said nothing, merely stepped closer, bestowing her with a smirk. She shivered again, taking an unconscious step back away from him. That smirk…there was something different about it, something wrong—evil. What was wrong with him? "Vegeta," She spoke sharply this time, hoping to jar him out of whatever strange mood had overcome him. "You’re scaring me." She watched as he stepped into the full moonlight, and gasped. It was a full moon…he was a Saiya-jin with a tail, shouldn’t he be going Oozaru? "Vegeta?" She queried again, eyes shooting to his waist, where his tail should be, and seeing absolutely nothing. With another small gasp, she searched the air behind him, looking to see if it was there. Again, she saw nothing. "Your tail!" She cried out. "Where’s your tail?" Hesitantly she took a step towards him, reaching out a hand to touch his chest. What had happened to his tail? He chuckled, and this time the sound wasn’t the usual rich, amused tones she was used to. This time there was cruelty and malice, and the sound of it directed towards her frightened her more than anything else ever had. He took her outstretched hand, and drew her close. "Vegeta?" She murmured, looking into his black eyes, noticing for the first time the strange M that scrawled across his forehead. Startled, she drew back, or attempted to. He held fast, refusing her exit. What was that strange M? She had never seen anything remotely like it, and the sight of it on his forehead confused her. "What’s the matter, wife?" He spoke sarcastically, emphasizing the word. "Can’t handle me?" He tipped his head back, laughing deeply. "Vegeta," She pleaded, trying to pull away from him. Something was wrong, very wrong. He was not right; his aura was full of malice. She could sense it as it brushed along the fringes of her mind. "Weak, Chikyuu-jin coward." He snarled, shoving her away from him violently. "Why did I ever tie myself to the likes of you." "Vegeta?" She felt her heart shatter as his glare pierced her heart. How could this be happening to her, to him? They loved one another. They were bonded. What was wrong with him? Why was he saying such horrible things to her? "Vegeta…" She called, watching in horror as the shadows that had surrounded him swallowed him whole again. "Vegeta, wait!" She cried, stretching her hands out in a useless attempt to reach him. And then suddenly the shadows were returning, rolling in like some thick fog to claim her. What was happening? Where was she? She stumbled backwards as the shadows crept towards her, threatening to engulf her in their black emptiness. No, she couldn’t go there, she couldn’t handle the pain she felt inside it. It was too much to handle, it was too much and it would swallow her whole if she got too close! "Vegeta! Please!" She screamed, stumbling back as the shadows slid ever closer. "Vegeta, don’t leave me! "Vegeta!" Bulma screamed, shooting up from the bed, breath heavy and harsh as she fought to control the panic that had nearly overwhelmed her. Gradually, she came back to herself, feeling the soft silk of the sheets beneath her palms, and noticing the cool air that blew in from the open window. God, it had been a nightmare. Some horrible nightmare brought on by the stress of the afternoon. Still, it had seemed so real. And Vegeta, he had been so cold, and cruel. His soul—it had been black, and evil as it had touched hers momentarily. Even now she could feel the cool cruelty that had infused him. Shuddering, Bulma leapt from the bed, trying to calm down the hysteria that was fast rising to the top again. It had been a dream. It had been some horrible dream, and it was over now. She was stressed out, and it was carrying over into her sleep. That could be the only explanation. Woman. His cool voice was like a balm to her soul, and she felt herself begin to relax. It was Vegeta—her Vegeta, not the cruel one from the dream. Woman, are you all right? He must have been able to pick up on the panic that the dream had induced through their bond. She had not seen him since the Saiya-jin had arrived earlier in the afternoon. She had left her parents to come lie down, and rest for the dinner that they were holding to celebrate the nuptials. Glancing at the clock, she saw with a start that she had slept for well over two hours. She had exactly one hour until it was time to eat. Woman. He growled impatiently. Answer me now. I’m sorry, I’m fine. Even to her own ears, she sounded weak, and unconvincing. I—it was a dream, nothing more. Are you sure? His voice was hard, yet husky, and she shivered, wishing that he were near her. She needed to feel that broad chest against her. She needed him to reassure her that everything was all right. She just needed him. Vegeta, I need you. She hadn’t meant to say that, and she regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. He would see her as weak, and clingy, and that was the absolute last thing she needed. Woman. Vegeta growled, but she heard the soft sigh in her mind, and wondered if he felt something similar to her. All right, meet me by the gravity room. If I come to our room, we won’t leave it tonight, and there is more—he paused, and she heard another soft sigh, or was it a growl? She couldn’t be sure. There is more that I need tend to yet tonight. He sounded resigned, and she suddenly felt the weight that had descended suddenly, and irrevocably upon his shoulders in a matter of a few short hours. All right. Bulma whispered huskily, happy that he was at least willing to steal a few moments of time to be with her. He had not been this malleable for days. I need to get dressed, and then I’ll be right there. Hurrying to her closet, Bulma yanked out a thin dress that she thought might knock him off his Saiya-jin feet. She was going to be doing more than trying to impress him, however. That fact had not left her mind since she had seen that ship land earlier. There was a small contingent of Saiya-jin to impress. If she wanted to be accepted by Vegeta’s people, if she wanted to aid Vegeta however she could, she had to play the part. Bulma rushed to the bathroom, giving herself a quick once over in the mirror. She could easily admit to herself that she was lucky to have a natural beauty. Conceited as it might seem, looks had never really been an issue for her. She’d been graced on many different levels, and could readily recognize that. Men had always been attracted to her, though the only man she was remotely interested in attracting was Vegeta. What about Bardock? The insidious little voice asked her, and Bulma flushed, turning away from the mirror. Certainly there was a minimal attraction to Bardock. She couldn’t deny that, but she absolutely did not seek to make him look at her the way Vegeta did. Whatever it was that existed between them had grown over time, and she would not deliberately seek to make it worse. Bardock needed to get over his attraction to her, and she needed to let him, no matter how good it felt to have an older man look at her with lust. It was merely her vanity that thrilled to that, and not some deep desire to have Bardock act on those feelings. With a shake of her head, Bulma banished the thoughts and took a hasty shower, dressing in her short, silky, red gown quickly. Staring at her hair, she decided to leave it down. Vegeta loved it down, and didn’t she want to knock him off his feet? If she were brutally honest with herself, she could readily admit that she wanted him to need her. She wanted him to desire her, and know that he could never do without her. She had to keep him happy, lest he turn to some Saiya-jin woman that would suit his needs better. Yes, she had to keep him interested. Ignoring the insidious little voice screeching at her that she didn’t have a damn thing to prove, or worry about, Bulma left the room. True, perhaps Vegeta could recognize her merits. He knew she was tough. She had given birth to his child, for Gods sake, and killed Frieza. That had to stand for something. She was a genius, and it had been her smarts that had propelled them all for many a year. Vegeta had to recognize that. So why did she still feel so damn insecure about his feelings for her? Maybe it was leftover remnants of that awful dream, or the distance that had grown between them over the past few weeks. All she knew was that lately, she had felt something between them…something that had never existed before, and it bothered her. His abrupt exit this afternoon, alone, to greet his fellow Saiya-jin had left her with a sick, unsettled feeling deep in her gut. She needed to see him; she needed to dispel the uncertainty that had arisen between them. By rights, it was something that should already be known between them, but, Bulma thought, Vegeta had been so damned distant, and aloof even, obsessing over his training. He had pushed her away, and in doing so, had harmed her sense of security where their relationship was concerned. His talk of the Saiya-jin that were coming had unsettled her. They weren’t going to be happy with his choice of Queen. He had said so himself. Rushing out the backdoor, Bulma hurried down the path that led to the gravity room. A quick glance around the area showed Vegeta had not arrived yet, so she walked quietly around the simulator to keep herself warm. The summer was giving way to the early nights of fall, and it was growing steadily colder with each passing evening. As Bulma rubbed her hands lightly over her chilled arms, she cursed herself for not bringing a wrap. She had been too preoccupied with thoughts of Vegeta, and that horrible dream. Well, by God, he would warm her when he got here. If he was going to cause her so much damn grief, it was the least he could do. Continuing to pace around the gravity room, Bulma listened carefully to the surrounding area for any hint of Vegeta. Not that she would be able to hear him. He was stealthy, and careful, giving no hint of his presence until he was right upon whomever he happened to be stalking. Tonight it would be her, and she felt a small thrill shoot through her at the prospect. Yet, as she listened, Bulma became aware that oddly enough the surrounding area was deathly quiet. And there seemed to be something—wrong…some creepy little feeling hanging about in the air. She couldn’t put her finger on it, and perhaps it was merely her agitated state that was making her feel things that were not there. Still, the forest behind the gravity room was absolutely silent, and fact alone was tripping every alarm she had. Perhaps it would be a good idea to wait for Vegeta inside the gravity room Stepping quickly up the few stairs that led to the entrance, Bulma began punching in the entry code that would open the door. Entering the code, she waited impatiently for the door to open, and was stymied when it remained firmly closed. What in the hell was this? With a growl, Bulma tried again, and still the damn door didn’t open. Had he changed the code? And if he had, why hadn’t he mentioned it to her? "Troubles?" A deep, sardonic voice cut through the night air, and slowly, she turned to face it. Peering into the night, Bulma could make out his silhouette from his spot in the shadows. Whoever he was, he had kept himself hidden away from the light, and it only added to the menace that she could sense emanating from her. God, where in the hell was Vegeta? "Not really." She said flippantly, pressing herself back against the steel doors of the gravity room. Perhaps he would just pass her by. As she watched him walk towards her into the moonlight, she realized she’d have no such luck. "Are all Chikyuu-jin females as gorgeous as you?" The man purred, strolling towards the base of the gravity room. Bulma opened her mouth to sear him with ugly words, when she caught sight of his face. She was vaguely aware of the gasp that escaped her as she got her first hard look. Good God, he looked exactly like Bardock, and Kakkarot. What was this? "What is it, love?" The man took a step up towards her. "See something you like?" "Who are you?" Bulma managed to spit out, discomfited by his close proximity. He had only three stairs to go before he was upon her. Already he blocked her escape, and she had no desire to be pinned between him and the door. Vegeta, where are you? She shot the panicked thought through their bond, but his connection remained silent. What in the hell was she supposed to do now? "Why do you ask?" He smiled arrogantly, stopping on the step below her. Casually, he stretched out a large hand, lifting a strand of blue off her shoulders. "Your hair is like the finest silk. Though I have never seen a lovelier shade than this." "You look like someone I know." Bulma tried to remain calm, refusing to allow his touch to frighten her. She needed to stay cool. It would be her only way out of this situation. She had been taught self-defense as a member of the royal court of Correnia…she had just never had to use it against a Saiya-jin brute before. "Who would that be?" He took the final step, pressing Bulma back against the wall, and trapping her firmly between it and his hard, armored chest. He smiled at her, fingering her hair gently all the while. She resisted the urge to strike out at him. Now wasn’t the moment. She needed to wait until she had more space to run. "Who is it that I remind you of, little Chikyuu-jin?" He said huskily. "Another Saiya-jin." Bulma forced out, taking in the tail that was wrapped around his waist. "His name is Bardock…and he has a son, Kakkarot." Taking a deep breath, she tried to position her legs so that she would have optimal range to knee him in the crotch. If she could get him off the steps, she might be able to get far enough away to escape him. "Bardock?" The Saiya-jin’s eyes flared wide before he emitted a low chuckle. "Figures you’d know him." His head dipped low, and Bulma felt him breathe lightly against her neck. "You smell good. I think I am going to enjoy having a Chikkyuu-jin concubine or two." "You never answered my question." Bulma inhaled sharply at the contact, feeling sick to her stomach. God, how did she get this brute off of her? Surely Vegeta was out there somewhere. "You need to get away from me." Bulma raised her hand, pushing against his chest. He was like a rock, refusing to move, and she heard him chuckle again next to ear. To her dismay, she felt his mouth move lightly against her neck, and she felt panic rise like a hot flame from the pit of her belly. Oh God, she had to get him away from her. Where in the hell was Vegeta? "And why would I do that, little Chikyuu-jin?" His mouth nipped lightly at her neck, and his hand trailed down to massage a breast. Bulma felt her knees weaken with stark terror as he explored her body at his leisure. She couldn’t allow this to happen to her. "Because I am the mate of your Prince and Lord, Vegeta." Bulma whispered hoarsely, grimacing as his leg pried her knees apart. "He’s on his way here now…he’ll kill you if he sees this." Again she shoved at him, and this time he reared back, capturing her hands in a vice grip. She was too far from the house for the to hear her if she screamed, but maybe Vegeta if he was near by would catch it. He had always said Saiya-jin had sensitive hearing… "Liar." The burly Saiya-jin snorted, leering at her. "The Prince would hardly mate with a weak, Chikyuu-jin whore. At best you’ve serviced him a few times. And now, it’s time for you to serve me." Bulma shrieked as he hoisted her over his shoulder, flying into the air like a rocket. "Put me down." She screamed, pummeling his back uselessly. Vegeta! She screeched in her mind. Where in the hell are you? "Put me down, bastard!" Bulma shrieked into his ear, hoping it would make him land. She knew they were sensitive about their damn hearing. Maybe it would hurt him. "Fine bitch. Have it your way." The Saiya-jin snarled, releasing his hold on her, watching impassively as she plummeted towards the ground below. Bulma screeched like a banshee on the way down, praying to any and every God that someone would save her. Damn the bastard! He was just hovering there above her, watching as she fell to her death. Oh God, what was she going to do? Where was Vegeta? At the last minute, she watched as he rocketed towards her, snatching her in an iron grip before she could fall to her death. Panicking, barely able to breath, she clung to his neck, terrified that he would actually let her fall. God, why was this happening to her, what had she done to deserve this fate? The Saiya-jin set them down on the ground lightly, pulling back from her death grip to sneer into her face. "Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson, woman. It is really very simple, little Chikyuu-jin…you willingly give me what I want, and you stay unharmed. Deny me, and I’ll be happy to rip that pretty little head right off you." He smiled at her, and she felt her stomach churn at the sight of it. He looked so much like Bardock, yet that alarming smile held no warmth. It was cold and cruel, and it promised untold pain if she crossed him. But still, no matter how frightened she was, and no matter what he had said, she would be damned if she would allow him to rape her. She would rather fight him to the death, than allow him to touch her body. "Now, I afforded us a little privacy, and found us this perfect little patch of wood." He waved his arms widely, gesturing towards the forest that surrounded them. "Why don’t you come here, and get to know me a little better." He snaked an arm around her before she could bolt, and she had to fight down the nausea that threatened to choke her. "Get your hands off me, you scum. You will have to kill me before I let you lay one hand on me." Bulma spat, staring coldly into his black eyes, attempting to summon all the courage she had. God, she wanted to run home and hide. Where was Vegeta? Why wasn’t he here saving her? "Such fire in you for a Chikyuu-jin. I like that…" The Saiya-jin ran a hand down the length of her back. But…I am not in the mood for a battle tonight. So, if it is death you want then it can be arranged, bitch." The Saiya-jin snarled the final words, jerking her hard against his body, and tightening his grip on her to an almost unbearable pressure. She imagined she felt bones popping as he crushed her to him, and she grimaced as he locked her into place, holding her firm as his mouth descended towards her, open and ready. Fighting back the panic, Bulma did the only thing she could recall at the moment. It was one of the things she had been taught years ago by her rather unorthodox self-defense instructor: she head butted him…hard. It probably wouldn’t do her much good, but if it shocked him, even for a minute…maybe she could make some kind of escape. Not that she had any idea where in the hell she was. Watching as his head snapped back, Bulma took in the look of shocked surprise, and the small, thin stream of blood that trickled from his nose. God, her head ached now. He must have the hardest, fucking skull in the entire damn universe. The surprise was enough for him to slacken his hold, however, and she wasted little time in breaking free. She had to escape him, somehow, some way…she had to! He was too fast for her. Before she had cleared a few feet, he was upon her, jerking her back by her hair, and hauling her back towards him, wrapping steely arms around her. "You’re going to pay for that, bitch!" And his tone left little doubt that he was serious. He practically snarled the words, and she felt the tension in the muscles that pressed against her. "I guess we’ll skip the foreplay, and get right down to it." Bulma cringed away from him as his hand slammed into her cheek, and blindly, she lashed out again, throwing her own wild punch. This bastard would not rape her. She could not let it happen. She had to fight the bastard off, she had to keep fighting. But he was upon her, pushing her down to the ground and dashing her hopes for escape completely. God, her head ached, her cheek burned, and she was so tired. Still she fought him, wincing as he pressed his knee into the small of her back, and ran a hand up over her bottom, sliding a finger underneath the silk of her panties. She couldn’t fight him like this, she just couldn’t. He had allowed her no room to move. Where was Vegeta? How could he let this happen to her? Dimly, through a rush of hot blood to her head, she felt herself begin to panic as he started working her underwear off, and she attempted yet again to heave him away from her, but his superior strength held fast, and she felt his hand grip her neck, holding her tightly against the ground. "There’s no point to fighting. It will go much easier for you if you just stay still, woman." The Saiya-jin growled into her ear, sliding his hand under her body to squeeze a breast. "I promise though, if you calm down, you’ll enjoy it. I’ll make you scream." God, she had a perfect body. He could hardly wait to sink himself into it. The battle she had given him had only served to increase his desire. He had been weeks without a woman, and he was more than ready to bed one. Bulma bucked under his weight, trying to get him away from her. His touch made her skin crawl, and she had to find a way…oh God, this couldn’t be happening to her, why couldn’t she figure a way out of this? There had to be a way! There had to be! This couldn’t be happening to her, she couldn’t allow it….she couldn’t allow it!! Her eyes blurred, and she realized she was sobbing. "Please…" She pleaded. "Please…" She felt him lower his body between her legs; felt his hard armor as it pressed against her back, felt him firm against her as he slid his hand under her skirt. "Hold still, love." The Saiya-jin murmured in her ear, moving his hand to free himself of his pants. "It will be good for you if you just hold still." Something hard grabbed him by the neck, and he felt himself torn off the woman, and thrown hard against a tree. With a groan, he staggered up. "What the hell…" He froze as he stared into the black eyes of his Prince. "Get your fucking hands off of my mate, Turles." The words were a harsh snarl, and Bulma nearly wept at hearing them. Awkwardly, she pushed herself up, feeling his hands on her as he jerked her behind him. "Are you alright, woman?" He asked with deathly calm. Choking back another sob, she nodded profusely, wishing her mouth word work, and something would come the hell out. "Yes…" She finally muttered, trying not to collapse against him. He was here! Vegeta had come, and he had saved her. "Vegeta," Turles snarled lightly, knowing his life was in jeopardy based on the look of sheer rage that clouded Vegeta’s face like a rain cloud. "Don’t tell me what she said was true. You’d actually mate with a Chikyuu-jin? I would have expected more from the Prince of our race." With a growl of frustration, he lifted himself up, shaking his head once to clear his head. He had been hurtled into that tree with unbelievable strength. So the rumors were true…Vegeta had obviously surpassed the all. "Look at what the little hellion did to me." He motioned towards his bloody nose, swiping a hand over the thin stream. "I’ll give her credit, she fights like a demon." Turles chuckled. "She must be quite a ride in bed." Vegeta’s eyes swept over his mate’s bedraggled form before turning back to face Turles. God, he had almost been too late. The bastard had almost touched her, had almost raped her. Vegeta felt his mind slide into a red-clouded fog of rage at the memory of seeing Turles hands all over her body, and at the sight of him draped across her. The urge to kill the man right then and there was overwhelming, and he felt his fist clench tightly at his side as he warred with himself. No, he would not kill him like this…he would not die easily. Turles would suffer…He would challenge Turles to a death match. He would fight for her honor, and he would fight for his own. He would tear Turles limb from limb and show all the newly arrived Saiya-jin bastards who he was. Clenching his fists, Vegeta forced himself to take a deep, shuddering breath. "I challenge you, Turles. You have touched what is mine, and by right…I will see you pay with your life for it." His voice was even and steady as he managed to gather control of himself. "What?" Turles choked out, stunned. "Vegeta she is a human…she is—" "You heard me, third class scum. How dare you touch her?" Vegeta balled his hand into a tight fist raising it before his face. Yes, he would kill Turles painfully and he would suffer for all he had attempted to do to her…for all that he would have done to her, had he not been there to throw him off of her. The bastard had been like a fucking dog…Vegeta felt his wrath raising again, felt the cloud of hot, burning rage descending over him, and rising up through him. The feeling was so intense…he thought he might choke on it. He shut his eyes, taking another calming breath. Bulma had given as good as she gotten. The sight of Turles bloody nose brought an evil smirk to his face. The woman was absolutely ingenious when she wanted to be. He hadn’t seen the hit she had used, but he had seen the smack Turles had dealt her. As smart as she was, as skilled in defense as she might be, there was no way she would have been able to fight Turles off… Crossing his arms, Vegeta stood arrogantly, waiting for Turles to make a move. By Saiya-jin law, when a challenge was issued…the combatants were locked away from each other for three days, forced to fast and meditate the entire confinement, until the sun hit the arena floor on the fourth morning after the challenge had been issued…and then they were set upon each other to fight to the death—going Oozaru if need be. Only the most serious of Saiya-jin disputes were settled this way…adultery, theft, murder…all serious wrongs were handled by a challenge with the thought that God would smile upon the winner. Vegeta would drag Turles back himself, and see him locked away. They would follow strict Saiya-jin law on this. It was effective, and it suited his needs perfectly. Turles wouldn’t stand a chance against him, and he would be happy to tear him to pieces and blast them into dust. The thought brought a heady surge of excitement rushing through him, and he shuddered with it. It had been too long since had battled in this way…far too long. Turles backpedaled, knowing he was no match for the Saiya-jin Prince. "It was a misunderstanding, Prince. I meant you no disrespect. A challenge is not necessary." He held up his hands in silent entreaty, hating that he was forced to back off. Still, the knowledge that Vegeta was a Super Saiya-jin was common, and he had felt the force that had been used into ripping him off of the woman, and tossing him into that tree. He stood no chance against that. "Besides, your mark is not upon her. How would anyone know she belonged to you?" Turles searched his mind for anything that might save him. The marking custom was the only thing he could grasp, and so he ran with it. "Every Saiya-jin marks their true mate…yet you have not laid claim to her. How could anyone know that she belonged to you?" "Did the woman tell you she belonged to me?" Vegeta growled, taking another step towards the man, balling his hand into a tight fist. How dare he mention that in front of Bulma? Dammit, the bastard was right…there had been no need to mark her, all the Saiya-jin that had lived knew precisely w |