Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Free My Soul ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from Dragon Ball Z.

A/N: I've got bad news and good news. The bad news is the Fall semester has started, and I'm a busy little bee with school, work and family, which means story updates are at the bottom of my to do list. But at least they make the list, unlike returning that call to my mother-in-law. The good news is that I'm taking a Sci-Fi literary class (totally fell into that one on accident) and a creative writing class. So cross your fingers. Maybe I'll learn something and improve!

 

Free My Soul

Chapter Four

Bulma surveyed the valley below her from a rocky outcropping. A large, silver, disc-like space craft was nestled on the flat plain, three sides protected by cliffs. She smiled as she watched the soldiers guarding the only entrance to the craft. She wouldn't necessarily say that Vegeta was paranoid, but he was an expert at protecting himself.

A vision of Vegeta dressed in his regal armor and his hard, domineering expression rose up in Bulma's mind, wiping the gentle smile from her lips. After Vegeta's visit she had been breathless and weak in the knees. His very presence drove all logical thought out of her mind, making her forget her goal for being on Namek, and she couldn't allow that. She had an epic reason for being here. It wasn't to get laid or whisper secrets in a lover's ear. It wasn't even to get closure over the rotten way he treated her. She was here to save her people. The entire human race was relying on her to keep her knees bolted together and a brain in her head. She needed to remember that, and not allow Vegeta to cast his black Voodoo spell on her.

After he left her in the dust yet again, she checked her dragon radar, and came to the dreadful conclusion that Vegeta had all the Dragon Balls except for two. The one she had in her possession and another that was half way across the world. She had no doubt that Vegeta would be gaining possession of that one very soon. If she was going to complete her task then she needed Vegeta's help. She needed him to give up something that was important to him for her. She needed him to sacrifice his wish for her.

Yah, right. And plants could talk.

She took a deep breath, girding herself as she picked her way down a narrow path. She had no idea how she was going to convince Vegeta her wish was more worthy than his. Maybe if he was still the naked, vulnerable man she met a year ago, not this fully clothed lord who looked down at her imperiously. This man destroyed entire civilizations and wouldn't think twice about her devastated world. He more than likely would gruffly tell her that shit happens and to get over it.

If only there was more than one wish available, but if these balls followed the same pattern as the ones from Earth, then there was no chance of that. Perhaps she could convince him to wait a year, when the balls recharged for him to make his wish. And maybe Oolong really could fly.

As she approached the entrance to the craft, her attention snapped fully to the two soldiers flanking the ramp. Dressed in white and blue, their faces were expressionless except for their dark murderous eyes. They didn't bother to address her, making her feel like a bug about to be squashed. Goose bumps rippled up her back and she hoped to God that Vegeta had kept his word to order his men not to kill her. It was approaching dusk, and when she and Vegeta last spoke it had been mid-morning. Plenty of time for him to issue the no kill order, as long as he hadn't forgotten.

“I'm Bulma Briefs, here to see Vegeta.” Her eyes widened as she realized her mistake immediately. “Err, Lord Vegeta,” she amended.

They didn't respond, just stared at her silently.

“Prince Vegeta?” She tried again in a small voice.

The sound of steel on steel dragged Bulma's attention to the top of the ramp. Vegeta's beautiful blonde companion stood at the mouth of the craft, her vibrant green eyes assessing. Bitterness immediately flooded through Bulma turning the taste in her mouth ashy. Unconsciously, she stood straighter, throwing her shoulders back and lifting her chin. Next to the gorgeous woman Bulma felt drab and shapeless, especially after everything she had been through in the last year.

The woman's cool expression didn't change, but Bulma could see amused condescension glitter behind her eyes. Bulma's self-confidence plummeted even further, and self-loathing followed closely on its heels. Bulma was a beautiful woman. On Earth she had no rival. She wouldn't allow this whore think she was better than the brilliant and beautiful Bulma Briefs. Angry, Bulma smiled, knowing it was one of her greatest weapons. The weary lines around her eyes disappeared, and her pale faced brightened. Her mother used to tell her, that when she smiled it was like the sun cresting the horizon. Bright, beautiful, and powerful.

The corners of the woman's perfect pink lips flattened and Bulma felt a vindictive spike of victory through her chest.

“Vegeta is expecting me.”

No title, no pomp, just Vegeta's name, slow, deliberate and possessively intimate. Bulma watched as the woman's eyes darkened with something dangerous. With a flash of insight Bulma knew she could never turn her back on this woman. She wanted Vegeta for herself, and Bulma had just put herself squarely between them.

Without a word, the woman turned on her heel to disappear into the ship. Undaunted, Bulma scurried up the ramp to follow all but daring the guards to stop her. They remained motionless and Bulma passed by, quickly falling in step beside the woman. Bulma Briefs would not follow behind like some scared, wretched little slave.

They walked without speaking, the only sounds were the sharp click of the woman's steel-soled boots on the metal floor. They followed a curving hallway, until eventually the woman turned sharply inward. A door hissed open, revealing a sparse room with a gray oval conference table and a smattering of uncomfortable looking chairs.

“Lord Vegeta is an extremely busy man.”

Too busy for you were left unspoken, but Bulma heard the insult loud and clear.

“We'll see about that.” She sauntered into the room, dipping her hips as she walked. She settled herself against the table, crossing her ankles as she smiled at the woman with a slow, confident stretch of her lips that used to have men hopping to do her bidding.

The blonde's eyes narrowed and Bulma knew she hit a nerve. The door closed, and she could hear the receding gunshot footsteps as the woman supposedly went to tell Vegeta she was there. Bulma wasn't stupid and she wasn't going to waste her time waiting for nothing.

She quickly located a control panel, and hacked into the onboard computer. A year of piecing together Frieza's flag ship made her an expert at Ice-Jinn technology. Within seconds she was able to down load a copy of the ships layout into the palm pilot Vegeta had given her, including the location of his private quarters.

Bulma laughed out loud when she found the door locked. Obviously the idiot woman had no idea who she was dealing with. Bulma overrode the locks and carefully glanced out into the hall. Seeing no one she darted down the corridor. She followed the directions to Vegeta's room, her heart racing a few times when she passed some soldiers, but they didn't even glance twice at her. Apparently if she had been allowed on the ship then the consensus was that she must belong there. It was surprisingly lax for Vegeta, and she made a mental note to mention it to him.

She made it to Vegeta's room without incident. Standing outside his door, she glanced around to make sure she was alone before connecting her PDA to the electronic lock. A few seconds later she was entering the room quietly, half-expecting Vegeta to step out of the shadows behind her. The room was fairly large considering the small size of the ship, and was dominated by a simple platform bed dressed with a thick, black comforter. It was the only warm thing in the room. The floor and walls were a cold steel gray without any artwork or rugs of any kind. There was a round metal table by the door with a gold bowl full of round purple fruit that could be called decoration, but it was more than likely just food for a hungry Saiyan.

At the sight of the bed, tingling heat slid down from her belly and in between her thighs. She quickly looked away from the bed, cradling her suddenly flaming hot cheeks between her cool palms. She didn't know what was more embarrassing. That she was immediately turned on by the thought of Vegeta naked in the bed or that she wanted to strip her clothes off, and root around in the sheets like a dog in heat.

As she turned away, she noticed a partially closed door that immediately peaked her curiosity. Nervously she glanced around, still expecting to run into Vegeta. There was a firmly closed door on the other side of the room, taunting her with its secrets. Cocking her head to listen closely she heard only silence. She crossed to the door, cringing as her footsteps clicked loudly on the steel floor. Balancing in her tip toes, she peered through the crack into the next room.

The huge metal desk tipped her off that the room was used as a study, but it didn't look like much work was done there. The blue gray walls were naked and there were no books or papers scattered about. That was of no consequence since five of the seven dragon balls were sitting bold as you please on the cold metal floor, looking as pretty as bright gold suns in a dismal gray sky.

Bulma heard a clatter behind her. Gasping, she sprang back, pulling the door completely shut. She whipped around to face the room just in time to see Vegeta stride out from behind the previously closed door from what must be the bathroom. He was gloriously naked and shocked to see her standing boldly in the middle of his bedroom. His black eyes flickered to the closed door behind her, before settling back on her. She tried to look unconcerned about the room and the contents she knew it held. This was amazingly easy, given what she had to distract her. Slowly her eyes slid down Vegeta's naked body, drinking in the perfection of his tightly bunched muscles and long lean form. Avid, she watched as Vegeta's cock lengthened in front of her eyes, his entire body poised to strike at the tiniest sign of invitation from her. Appalled, embarrassed and instantly wet all at once, Bulma spun around to face the wall.

Naked was not how she wanted to deal with Vegeta. Granted she felt comfortable with him when he was unclothed, but she needed to have a serious conversation with him that didn't mentally involve her jumping his bones every chance she got.

“You should put some clothes on.”

“Weren't you complaining earlier about my state of dress?”

Bulma closed her eyes against the sexual onslaught that was Vegeta's voice. There was nothing tamed or subdued about him. He was a raw, hungry predator and it showed in his every nuance, including the husky timber of his voice.

“This isn't a booty call, Vegeta. You and I have to talk.”

Vegeta sighed deeply behind her, and Bulma felt regret clench tightly between her breasts. She wanted nothing more, but to say `fuck it', and run across the room to him, stripping her clothes off as she went, but she had to remember she was here on a mission. She needed to save her people, not get her brains fuck out.

There was some rustling behind her before Vegeta spoke. “Why are you here, Bulma?” He sounded tired, and when she turned around she caught him rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

She paused to watch him for a moment, just soaking him in. She tried to forget him this past year, but in reality she couldn't imagine another man in her life. He ruined her for anyone else, and a very large part of her was okay with that.

He became aware of her scrutiny and his expression closed itself to her. He leaned back against the wall, the soft blue shirt he pulled on stretching across his broad shoulders as he crossed his arms. It was the same stance he perfected while standing for hours in their cell staring at the bolted door. Right down to his crossed ankles. He was wearing a pair of loose dark pants now, but his feet were still bare and there was something incredible sexy about the way his toes curled. Like he was just a moment's notice from shucking his clothes and crawling into bed.

The entire situation made her sad. He was confidence personified, while she was squirming in her own skin. He was used to staring down monsters and fighting off skilled warriors. He didn't know the meaning of fear, much less insecurity. For Vegeta, there was no such thing as losing.

“I can't possibly beat you,” she whispered distantly, and he lifted a questioning brow. She shook off her suddenly dark mood and squared her shoulders.

“We are both here for the same thing,” she stated boldly, no longer sounding empty. “The Dragon Balls.”

Vegeta chuffed like a discontented lion and pushed himself off the wall pacing the room restlessly. Distantly she realized she was the only person to see this side of him. Openly showing small hints of emotion, instead of quietly and motionlessly assessing his targets, strummed to attack. She wasn't a target. She wasn't a threat. She wasn't anything bad to him. A hollow tightness in her chest dissolved at the thought, and her tenses muscles loosened.

He came to a sudden stop in the center of the room, turning to face her.

“Well, what about it?” His eyes narrowed, chilling her to the bone. “Like you said, you can't win,” he finished softly.

Her lips thinned at the challenge in his voice. Pushing at him was like pushing at a brick wall. He just wasn't going to budge, but she had to try for the sake of humanity. Bulma opened her mouth to say something spectacularly logical, to bombard him with a brilliant argument that he couldn't possibly say no too. Unfortunately that's not what came out.

“I miss my mother. You have no idea how much I need her right now. And my papa, and my friends, and everyone I've ever known. I want my home back, Vegeta. I want my life,” she ended in a rush. Vegeta's cold expression didn't change, crushing something inside her. Mortified at her show of emotion, Bulma cupped her hands over her face and turned away from him. Tears burned her eyes and she took a deep, ragged breath to keep them at bay.

“What's done is done. Your world is gone. Your people are gone. You may not think so, but there are more important things in this universe to wish for than resurrecting our dead.”

His words were meant to a reminder that her world wasn't the only one destroyed by Frieza. During their time together, Bulma had learned a lot about Vegeta, including his devastating past. But his pain over the loss of his people was old and scarred over, while hers was fresh and bleeding.

“Like what, Vegeta? Your all consuming hunger for power? Admit it, you're a junkie.”

Vegeta snarled and the frightening sound echoed through the room, bouncing off the bare steel walls. He took a step towards her, and her spine instantly stiffened with fear before he very visibly reigned himself in.

“I will admit a desire for power, woman. But it isn't as sordid as you make it sound. There are some evil sonsabitches out there. I should know, I was raised by them. Someone has to put a stop to it.”

“Someone has to rule you mean?”

“It's my destiny,” Vegeta replied quietly, and Bulma wondered if he was thinking of his father. The king had dreams of infinite power, of endless respect. Something he told Vegeta, only came with the power to rule.

“Why are you so heartless?” Bulma hissed, icy anger blazing in her cool blue eyes. All she could think about when she looked at him was all the wrong he had done to her.

“I'm a survivor. Something you need to learn to be yourself.”

“I will never be like you,” Bulma replied scathingly, barely able to look at him.

“Like what? Practical? Logical? In control?” He whipped his hand at her, indicting without words his disgust at her tears that she hadn't even noticed streaming down her face. “You want me to change,” he said softly, watching her.

She sniffed loudly, wiping her tears away with both hands self consciously. No one likes a bawling woman her mother used to say. Besides, she wasn't a pretty crier. She always ended up looking like a snot-nosed, red-faced, shell-less turtle. “I don't want you to change; I want you to be who you used to be. I want you the way you were.”

“This is me, I've never been different.”

“You were different back on the ship. More raw. More primal. Open. This person---“ she started, pointing to his clothing ”---I don't know who this man is standing in front of me. The uniform changes you, not me.”

He shifted uncomfortably, looking away to stare at a spot on the wall, before settling his gaze back onto her.

“Look, you're not alone, Bulma. You could stay here.” Vegeta's harsh tone softened as he spoke and she could hear the indecision in his voice. Indecisive about what she didn't know. That she wouldn't accept his offer or that he really didn't really want her to accept? She gaped at him incredulously, the banked anger inside her roared back to life with a vengeance.

“You left me when I needed you the most, and now you are asking me to stay. Are you crazy?”

He dismissed her rhetorical question with a shrug of his broad shoulders. His intense, dark eyes pinning her to the spot as he spoke.

“No one ever needs me. People fear me, run from me, but no one ever needs me.”

“I needed you, Vegeta, and you left.”

“I never made you any promises.”

“Well, you made one promise,” she muttered, lowering her eyes as she thought about what he said he would do to her once he rid himself of the power suppressing collar around his neck. Bright blue light flickered to life through the room. She glanced up, her face going pale an instant before flushing burning hot. Vegeta stalked slowly towards her, blue lighting snaking up his bare arms. The banked flames flaring to life in Vegeta's black eyes was unmistakable. Her body instantly responded, gushing heat to her center.

She backed away, hands warding him off. “No, I don't want that from you. Especially when you are slutting around with little Miss Beck and Call out there,” she sneered, her face dead-serious. Vegeta paused, cocking his head to the side as he watched her with predatory eyes.

“What are you talking about, woman?”

“Your little Barbie doll whore. Tell me Vegeta, does she get down on bended knee to suck you cock whenever you snap your fingers.”

“Lyedra?”

“Whatever,” Bulma turned her back, fuming. She couldn't believe he thought he was going to weasel his way into his pants when it was clear to anyone who bothered to look that he was fucking his newest whore. Furious, she didn't hear Vegeta creep up behind her.

“Are you jealous?” he whispered in her ear.

She stiffened, but didn't pull away. There was no where left for her to go except for the study. And there was no way she was going to pull open the door to reveal the Dragon Balls.

“No, why should I be? It's not like we are in love or anything.”

Vegeta pulled her back into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around her so she couldn't struggle away. She wanted to melt into him. To let all the anger and fear fade away, and just revel in being in his arms. He nuzzled his face against the smooth line of her neck, inhaling deeply against her skin.

“I have had neither the time nor the inclination to touch another woman since we parted, and that is the truth.” She loosened in his grasp, wanting so badly for the words whispered against her flesh to be reality.

“And if you had the inclination?” she whispered back, staring at the hard cold wall in front of her.

Before she could breathe he spun her around in the air, setting her on the round table by the door. The gold bowl raked across the table, wedged between the wall and her body. Facing her, he stepped between her thighs before she could protest. Surprised, she inhaled deeply to catch her breath. She smelled sandalwood and musk, everything that was Vegeta as he leaned in close to her.

“I doubt I would,” he told her seriously, wrapping his strong hands around the collar of his thin shirt, before roughly tearing it apart. She gasped in surprise, her eyes darting up to his.

“Put your hand here.” Before she could respond he grabbed her hand, placing it on his chest over his heart. His skin was like ice, and she had to resist the urge to pull away. Her eyes widened in fear. He had always been so hot, warm like the sun, but this icy chill to his skin was unnatural. It was frightening.

He shuddered at her touch. “I only feel warmth when you touch me,” he confessed quietly, his eyes averted from hers.

True to his word she could feel his skin warm beneath her palm. She placed her other hand on his chest, sliding her palms across his flesh to warm him. He leaned into her as if he could spread her across his skin so he could be warm once again.

He cradled her delicate jaw in both his hands, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were bright with desire and barely suppressed need. They drifted down, focusing intently on the curve of her lips. Slowly the tip of his tongue slid along the line of his full lower lip. She followed its path with hunger, wishing his tongue was on her, inside her. He withdrew it, sucking in his lower lip, and biting gently down with his straight white teeth. Something hot and vital shot down her spine to the very tip of her clit, tingling and aching. With taunting deliberateness he released his lower lip, watching as her body arched in response, desperate to be closer to him and his awe-inspiring mouth.

With his hands still tucked away in her hair, he pulled her closer to him, lowering his mouth until their lips brushed together with butterfly lightness. His tongue darted out, the tip reverently tracing her lips.

“You taste like sunshine and sea salt,” he whispered against her mouth.

Like a summer day on the beach, Bulma though to herself, before remembering that Vegeta probably wouldn't understand. He never spent a day of leisure sunning in the sand. His life was full of violence and bloodshed. Full of everything dark and bad. Except for her. She was the one thing in his life that wasn't bad. She knew that for certain, by the way he moved around her. The way he looked at her. The way he turned his back to her.

She wrapped her fingers around his thick wrists, shuddering at the coldness of his skin. Warmth was something that everyone needed. Bad or good. Whether they dwelled in darkness or sunshine. Warmth was a necessity and it was something she could give to Vegeta without reserve.