Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Reciprocity ❯ Bull In The Heather ( Chapter 10 )

Disclaimer: Toriyama had his chance. If I owned it, I would be putting a lot of fan fic writers to work. ::Vote springandbysummerfall in 2012::

_Bull In The Heather

Bulma twisted the knobs of the radio, listening to different channels boasting distinct types of static with her chin in her hand. So far, she was only picking up muffled, tinny conversations, and nothing relevant at that. She stifled a sigh and kept turning the dial in bored curiosity. They were five days off from Earth and Vegeta had, as usual, locked himself in the gravity room. She was relieved that he had, to be honest. She was beginning to think he had come unglued. Any time they were in the same room, Vegeta ogled her with a preying intensity, his normal smooth gliding now a hungry slinking, his typical dark humor now a predatory silence. She wasn't afraid for her life; she was more afraid of his sudden lack of control. Vegeta had always prized himself on his self control, and through it, his ability to dispatch his foes impishly, ruthlessly, and confidently. But his control seemed to have slipped since he had awoken in a small rented room with cracked, yellow paint in Tent City. His assurance had taken on a desperate quality that reminded her a little of his frenzied bum's rush on Namek. Not only did his behavior toward her trouble her, but he was working himself into a froth in the gravity room. She was used to his stubborn perseverance, but this kind of training was altogether the path to madness.

She had come knocking on the gravity room door yesterday, only to stop in her tracks when she heard his wild laughter. Pressing her ear to the door and frowning with absorbed concern, his guffawing drifted into a long moment of silence. Tapping her finger to her lips with worry and arms crossing with concern, she debated what she should do when the door had suddenly burst open. Vegeta stood there with a half cocked and wicked grin, his pupils dilating as he focused in on her. She froze, emitting a stupid nervous giggle.

“Well, hello there, Onna.” The muscles in his body jumped with restraint. “Come to view the show?” He all but whispered it, a discomforting caress.

“I...I just came to tell you dinner is ready.”

“Good. I'm hungry,” he confided, lingering over the word.

“Okay,” she responded with remarkable aplomb. She turned on her heel and tried not to run down the stairs. Trembling, she made her plate and set down stiffly at the kitchen table. Only, Vegeta never showed. Not until she was in the shower, getting ready for bed, did she hear the dampened clang of the stairs over the pounding water...and she could have sworn she felt him linger outside the bathroom door.

No, she didn't fear for her life...but this was not a Vegeta she knew or understood. This was more than just lust. And although he was making her jumpy, she was even more so intrigued. The scientist in her pondered the puzzle. What caused the change? In extreme moments--like the time he kissed her--his ki fluctuated violently. His ki may have synced with his emotions somehow.

The obvious perpetrator was the ki cuffs. Vegeta had insinuated he'd had to wear them before, but he hadn't mentioned whether or not they'd affected him like this. She wondered if he was out of balance in some way. After all, many gurus on Earth said that the ki flowed through seven different locations on a person's body, and if an opening was blocked, it could offset the flow of ki in marked ways to weaken them. But Vegeta seemed, in those intense moments, anything but weak. In fact, he seemed beyond his limits of power. Like his body was on the cusp of something greater than it, but his mind hadn't caught up, in the same way her suit had increased his powers to intolerable levels and caused the gravity room to crumble in on him. She feared that disconnect in him. Since he had settled in at Capsule Corp, the rash, slow burning Vegeta on Namek had been replaced by a safe, albeit prickly one. She was able to expect certain reactions from him. But this Vegeta seemed on the edge of unrestrained...irresistibly so.

She was worried by her own reaction to him. She didn't think he would force himself on her, but if he went there...she didn't know that she wanted to resist. It was like the animal in him brought out the animal in her. Every time he had an episode of wild, unruly ki, she was, at first, shot through with concern that he was becoming increasingly fractured; lately it was competing with a surge of wet heat between her legs, a leaping pulse, a languid, swaying desire. Their bodies were talking to one another, but their minds were in totally different dimensions. She had hoped once they got off planet that they could begin working on their budding relationship. Instead, they were sabotaged by this unexplained madness. Maybe the gurus could ascertain it, but they weren't even on Earth.

She supposed she had the next best thing--the Earth's wealth of knowledge on ki science. The only problem was that she would have to wait until they returned to Earth until she could start experimenting. She had no materials here. As she fiddled with the dial on the radio she had made from spare parts, she chewed over the possibility of a ki serum that could level him back out. When they had been working together on the ki enhancement suit, she had researched plenty of ways to enhance or disrupt ki...unfortunately, a ki enhancement serum could make him even more out of whack. He was at a loss for something. Ki enhancement could boost what he had, but not rectify him. Until she could get back to her lab, she was just crossing her fingers that they could both hold out on the crazy.

A clear male voice rang throughout the room on the radio. Bulma startled and listened in closely.

“...50 AU's ahead. Unknown allegiance, unknown origin...small craft...set to intercept in less than one standard hour.”

Her curiosity piqued.

“Roger that, Nova. What's the procedure?”

“Docking and boarding by force until possible threat subdued. Repossession of the ship. Incarceration of suspects until identities are cleared.”

“Why all the red tape, Captain?”

“Possible insurgent, as tipped off by former Captain of the Guard, Zarbon, sir.”

Bulma's breath caught and cold fear filled her.

“Heard and verified, Nova. We await your orders.”

“Roger that.”

The transmission went silent. It took her a full minute until she realized all that she could hear was her own heart hammering.

She raced up the stairs and pounded at the door of the GR. It swung open, and Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her, wiping sweat from his face and chest with a towel.

“We're going to be intercepted,” she informed him in a rush. “By someone important.”

“And how do you know this?” He threw the towel over his shoulder and crossed his arms. His posture indicated calm, but his nostrils flared and his eyes roamed over her, which she did her best to ignore.

“I was scanning through transmissions out in space on the radio I built. I overheard two men talking about intercepting a small ship...a ship reported by Zarbon.”

He simply stared at her. At first she didn't think he believed her. She knew what she heard, and it was specific enough to their situation to be alarmed. But then power started gathering around his feet, becoming tangible around his hardening face until it appeared so solid that, if she reached out to touch it, it looked like it could cut her to the bone. And there it was--a rapidly escalating, stuttering aura, the back and forth flicker of energy a strobe light against steel walls.

“They've come to the right place if they're looking for a fight,” he growled ominously.

“We need to think of a plan. Fighting power is good, but we need a strategy,” she urged.

“No one makes it out alive in a fight with the Prince of all Saiyans.”

Bulma stared at him dumbly. “Ohhhkay, your strategy is just shoot to kill, then? Well, what if they overpower you with ki weapons, like last time? We at least need a backup plan.”

His glower turned hostile, and ki grew and lashed around him.

“Relax, tough guy. It was only a suggestion. I just worry, that's all,” she consoled, resting her hand on his shoulder. His eyes closed at the contact, and she heard what sounded curiously like purring.

She wasn't sure if reasoning with him was the best avenue while he was in this state. Maybe petting was?

Curiously, she laid her other hand on his opposite shoulder and squeezed gently, stepping closer into him and looking up into his face, which looked down on her with an intimidating intensity.

“I mean, do you want me to hide? To stand behind you? Maybe I can rig something up quickly with my spare parts in case they try anything dirty.”

He pressed her to his chest, and she let out a little breath at the force behind it.

“I'll take care of it.” His assurance was pitched low as he nuzzled her ear.

This kind of...affection...was new. She was reminded of his confession about making love to her as he was lying on the floor of the Exalted's, a conversation he clearly did not remember having. Was...was his unbalanced ki making him more emotional, more animal? There was no disputing this with him right now. She was going to have to deal with this later, and covertly. But maybe she could at least redirect the crazy.

It wouldn't be manipulating, not this time, as it was in her lab...because, this time, she heeded and recognized his feelings. This time, she was putting herself on the line as much as he was.

She needed him to listen to reason because she loved him.

She drew closer to him, resting her face in the crook of his neck.

“Let me help in some way,” she murmured, stroking his broad back, her palms slipping lightly against his sweat slicked skin.

He gripped her shoulders, inhaling her scent and taking her ear lightly into his mouth. She shivered, which earned a satisfied growl from him.

She was in danger of being lost to the animal herself.

His tongue slid down her neck and she stiffened, trying to stay in control. His teeth nipped at her collar and her nipples involuntarily hardened. Her hands grazed his back and rested at the back of his neck, her nails scraping lightly against his nape with a mind of their own. She sighed into him as his hands stroked her sides, trailing light kisses against her neck. She cupped his face and gently pulled him towards her, breathing in his breath. They stood like that for a moment, until her lips pressed lightly against his, and again, only this time taking his bottom lip in her mouth.

Ki crackled around her, and Bulma glanced up in surprise. Little streaks of electricity jumped from his aura, seeking refuge. With alarm, she disengaged from his lips slowly, pulling back to look at him.

“You probably shouldn't do that around the gravity console,” she suggested huskily. Her eyes widened with alarm when she remembered the real gravity of the situation. “Who do you think we're dealing with, Vegeta?”

“Pirates. Ex-soldiers.” He shrugged. “No one I can't handle. Power level or greater numbers, it doesn't matter. “ He nipped her chin and squeezed her hips, pressing them slightly into his own while he licked her bottom lip. “This Prince has remarkable endurance.”

Her breath caught in her throat and a bolt of lust heated her through. This wasn't what they needed to be doing right now. They needed to strategize for all possibilities. In Vegeta's characteristic, unrelentingly stubborn way, he thought himself impervious. To any thing, anybody. No one could hold a candle to him. She didn't doubt his strength among most men, but she still worried about his well being. Look what happened last time. Although he was stronger than Zarbon, Zarbon was still able to overpower him with tech. And that tech is exactly what scared her. With cuffs like that out there, who knew what the incoming ship was armed with, or the soldiers manned with?

His tongue descended into her mouth, and all rational thought left her brain. His mouth was warm and oh so delicious.

His fingers hooked in her belt loops and held her there as he plundered her mouth for secrets. She ran her hands lightly down his chest, grazing his flat nipples. With a sharp growl, he grabbed the backs of her thighs and hoisted her against the door frame.

She couldn't say no the salt of his mouth, his teeth against her neck, his slick skin under hands. She had hoped to subdue the beast, but instead had awoken them both. Growling, she sunk her nails into his lower back and swept his mouth with her tongue.

His aura flared with crackling energy. A growl grew in him until it was a roar filling his senses. All he could see was her wild blue eyes, her disheveled hair, her pouting, wetted lips.

She senses the animal in you, it whispered to him. She yields to it. Rut her, it urged him gravelly.

His fingers grazed her thighs, tracing upwards to the V between her legs and gripping her there. She snarled and thrust her hips at him just as the lights went off in the cabin, while the crunching of metal sounded from below deck.

“Power disabled. Prepare to be boarded,” chimed a toneless voice from her console.

In the dark, pressed up against the door frame of the gravity room with only a few red and yellow emergency lights glowing on the console to light the couples fervent faces, they kissed, tongues meeting dreamily.

“The only thing you have to be scared of,” he whispered roughly against her mouth, “is what I'm going to do to them when they walk in that door.”

The moment broke into shards as they heard the door slide and boots tread in.

He released her and she stood on wobbly knees, regaining her bearings and glancing around in confusion as Vegeta shielded her.

What the fuck? She wondered, running her hand through her hair. Her composure broke as a dozen soldiers poured into the room, training their guns on them.

Vegeta turned and faced them, and just as his sleek blue ki rippled around him, sparking in a spurious flurry against the near complete darkness, the soldiers guns drooped.

“Care to dance?” He asked leisurely.

After a moment, one of the soldiers in the front stepped forward, hesitantly. “S-sir,” he stuttered. “This is a surprise.” He gestured to the others. “Weapons down! Radio Lord Cooler,” he barked at one of the soldiers.

Vegeta's ki flared icily around him.

“Lord Vegeta,” he addressed Vegeta again, bowing. “We didn't know you were aboard this ship. Frankly, we didn't even know you were alive. Lord Cooler should answer any questions you should have,” he said as another being swept the room.

“Vegeta,” it purred. “It's just my luck you'd show up as I sought to consolidate my brother's empire. Ah, well. How have you been since killing my brother on some godforsaken planet in the middle of nowhere? Where have you been all this time?”

Bulma looked back and forth from Vegeta to this new interlocutor with apprehension. He loomed tall and wide before them, a thorned white breast plate and helmet crowning his mostly masked features. All she could see were dead red eyes and a leer. His toes were webbed, three toes on each “foot” clawing at the floor like a birds. A thick purple tail curled in the air behind them.

“Honing my skills so that I could hack you into pieces, in the same way your brother was laid to rest,” Vegeta reassured him.

Oh, lay on the charm, Vegeta! She yelled at him in her head.

“I'd be happy to oblige you. And who is this?” He nodded disinterestedly toward Bulma.

“I'm his mechanic,” she offered.

Vegeta sent her a glare. He was in no mood for dissembling, his pride bursting as it was at the intrusion.

“I have plenty of engineers on my ship,” Cooler sniffed.

And that's when the pieces came together.

“I was stranded on M183, sir,” she pronounced in her best military manner, straightening. “I was an engineer on Frieza's flag ship, but was taken hostage by the natives on M183 when my ship crash landed. Vegeta found me, sir, and ordered me to tend to his ship.”

Vegeta shot her a look, and she sent him one right back that ordered him to just keep his mouth shut.

“A cast away, huh. Well, by all means, we will escort you back on to my brother's ship and get you squared away and reoutfitted. I guess it's never a bad idea to have extra hands in the lab,” Cooler commented boredly, his head listing to the head, horns jutting upwards adversely. He nodded at one of his men, who trotted over to her.

Vegeta stiffened and growled.

“Surely you don't want to challenge me here in this little space ship, which will surely implode should one of us even sneeze,” Cooler laughed haughtily, mistaking Vegeta's protectiveness for provocation. “You haven't even heard the best news yet.” Cooler smiled grotesquely. “You are Frieza's heir, you know. His empire, I'm loathe to admit, is yours now. After all, you were his favorite little foundling. So much pernicious potential. Lord Vegeta.”

At Cooler's pronouncement, the soldiers dropped to their knees, bowing.

“Don't get used to it,” Cooler snapped. “Shall we enjoy a dinner, then get down to business? I am so going to enjoy ripping you into pieces.”

“Why bother. You're stalling the inevitable. Just like your brother did.”

“Indeed! Oh, blunt Saiyans,” Cooler wiped a mock tear. “My brother was wrong to exterminate your kind. You're such comedians! Let's get this over with already.”

Vegeta's eyes ground into her, and she stood frigidly under their power. Please just trust me, she begged. Please just get me inside the ship so I can ransack their labs and make you better before you explode in a fiery blaze. The fool was going to fight this Cooler, whoever he was, and his energy wasn't the least bit stable.

“You're not going anywhere.”

“Where do you expect her to go? Do you want her to watch as I skin you alive?” He laughed. “What, did you become attached, Vegeta? I didn't think you had it in you. And where in the hell is your tail?”

Vegeta's aura flickered and flecked with black almost imperceptibly and Bulma's eyes widened. He cut the air with his hand. “I will come for her after I wipe the floor with you. I'll be more than happy to dispatch the universe of a Cold, although the lack of challenge will be a real disappointment.”

The soldier gripped her by the elbow and started to lead her out the door.

“Don't touch!” Vegeta screamed, his ki billowing out around him and nearly sweeping them off their feet. Streaks of black and red tinged the insides of the flame of his energy, framing his wild gaze in sinister shades. The soldier dropped her elbow almost quick enough to make Bulma laugh. Instead, she watched with rapt concern.

“Don't touch. She is royal property,” Vegeta rasped.

Bulma's eyes bulged. What the fuck did that mean?

Cooler sniffed. “Not for very long, monkey. Your empire will be mine shortly. I'll consider it dessert!” He laughed caustically. “Take her away. And don't touch her. Wouldn't want to upset my guest.”

Bulma was led out the door, the perspiring soldier glancing back, hoping desperately that she was following. She felt Vegeta's eyes on her back.

The soldier led her into the ship, its insides washed in white, causing Bulma to squint. Through corridors and down through the hull, until he sidled into a room and opened a drawer, grabbing some clothing from a stack and handing it to her. Bulma unfolded it and it unrolled like a scroll in front of her. A blue unitard. He handed her a small scouter with a rosy lens and led her back into the hallway silently, opening a door at the end of the corridor on to a mess of people showering and grooming themselves in various ways. Bulma grimaced at the sight.

“Get your hair squared away with Gurna. That length isn't regulation for a third class. You were on that stinking planet for awhile, weren't you?” He commented, glancing distastefully at her hair. “Gurna,” he called to a hunched old...woman?...with a frizz of orange hair and leathery skin. “Hair cut,” he called out to her, pointing at Bulma's head, and then opened the door back up. “Report to O5 when you're done and we'll get your paperwork done.”

“Paperwork?” Bulma squawked.

He nodded, leaning against the door frame conversationally. “So far Cooler has kept Frieza's computer system in place, so we'll just update your profile. It's a real coincidence that Vegeta showed up today. Cooler's been eyeing us like candy. He just boarded a few days ago.”

“I can't believe that crazy Saiyan inherited the blasted Empire! I don't know if we'll be better or worse off,” someone called out to him.

He shook his head and spoke to the new guy. “Fucking Zarbon. He's a head case anymore. He should have been the one to take control after Frieza was assassinated, but he went on a madcap jaunt to find Vegeta, and we haven't heard from him since.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bulma tried entering the small talk casually. “Where is he now?”

“Hell if I know. I think Cooler mentioned him heading toward Irohroh 9 after he reported your ship, but who knows. He's been a looney since Vegeta killed his Lordship.”

“How did you guys hear that Vegeta killed Frieza?” Worried the two men would see through her, she became inventive. “I mean...I just found all this out, like, today,” Bulma finished lamely, trying for convincing.

“Vegeta never told you? Well, I guess it leaked from Zarbon, probably stumbling across the universe and cursing Vegeta's name. I guess he barely made it out alive, but he told everyone about the golden Saiyan he saw handing Frieza his ass. Crazy that crazy Saiyan legend is true. Have you seen Vegeta transform yet?”

Bulma shook her head slowly.

“Well, I bet he'll wipe the floor with Cooler, if he had no problem making mince meat of Frieza. I only hope the ki shields hold up when they duke it out. I have a hot date tonight.” He sulked.

“It's an engineers duty to check these things before a fight of this caliber. Where can I find a lab to get the tools before I go up there?” Bulma asked him as innocently as she could manage.

“Well, you haven't been cleared yet. After you swing by room O5, head to the West Wing if you want to mingle with the scientists. See you around.” He gave her a short wave and the door closed behind him. She felt a hand close around her arm and pull her into a chair. She stared at herself in the mirror, deep in thought, as the alien draped a plastic covering over her shoulders and, to Bulma's surprise, started hacking off her hair.

__

Bulma prowled the West Wing with impatience. Where the hell were those labs? She stopped and fiddled with the scouter hooked to her ear. She knew it was programmed to give her coordinates of the ship, but she couldn't figure out the damned language, and she couldn't change a damn thing about it until she had some tools. Her arm fell to her side in exasperation and she kept walking, her white boots clicking softly on the tile. This was a race against time. She knew Vegeta could pack it away when he wanted, but no one's dinner lasted this long.

“Aha!” She cried, spying a bank of windows that stretched along the hall and opened out onto a large room furnished with lab tables, beakers, and rows and rows of file cabinets. She made her way in and was almost immediately stopped by a tall yellow alien with a hairlip.

“Woah, woah. Where are your orders to be here, little soldier?”

“Oh. Hi.” Bulma cleared her throat. “I was just informed to come here and grab a few things for Lord Cooler. I just arrived aboard and he told me everything I would need to assist him would be down here.”

“Oh.” His eyes widened. “You're the engineer that came with Vegeta? Well then, let me show you around. You'll want to get familiar with this area since we'll be on the ship for about fifteen more standard months before we dock at Cooler's home planet. If he survives, of course.” He rolled his eyes. “Saiyans.” He waved her ahead. “After you.”

__

Bulma looked over her new accessories with glee. The labs lacked exactly what she was seeking to restore Vegeta's ki, and she fought a lingering frustration over it. That was all speculation on her part, though. She could only guess what the problem and resolution was at this point. What was important was that she had the tools strapped to the capsule case around her thigh that would turn the tide should anything go wrong with the fight. She had confidence in Vegeta, but she was skeptical about how much battering his body could take before his ki started acting wacky again. She just wouldn't jump in unless it were absolutely necessary. She knew she'd never live it down if she took this fight away from him.

She hurried down the hall, rounding the corner until she hit a set of double doors and a guard.

She smiled sweetly. “Lord Cooler bade me check the room before Lord Vegeta challenges him.”

The guard opened the door for her and gave a smooth smile of his own, and she gagged a little as she passed by him. “You're a little late,” he called as the door closed behind her.

Glancing around the small, windowless room, she spied a large generator and a long, sleek console lining the walls. Glancing over the controls, she saw a set of gauges whose hands dipped, bouncing back and forth. Her eyes widened.

“Shit! They've already started! But how do I get in?”

She spied a vent and grinned with devilish delight.

__

Vegeta's face was being ground into the tile by a corded purple arm, until he kicked his legs out smoothly and swept Cooler off his feet. Delivering an impossibly fast roundhouse kick to Cooler's own face, Vegeta powered up to new heights, his ki jumping around him. The room flickered with new colors....The colors of Vegetasei and Saiyan royalty. Black and red filled Vegeta's vision, and the beast inside him rolled with pleasure.

Cooler laughed, spraying blood. “Do you think that I'll just hand over an empire? You are a pathetic monkey. You always were! How you killed my brother is beyond me, considering he always knew exactly how to bend you over his knee.”

Vegeta's knee connected with Cooler's face, and Cooler slammed into the wall, sliding down heavily. “Admit it,” he moaned. “You got lucky.”

“I don't get lucky,” Vegeta pronounced, surveying Cooler's bloody visage cooly.

“He's not the only one with a final form, you know.”

“Try me. I'm getting pretty pissed you didn't just transform when we began this charade.” Vegeta's eyes narrowed. “You've been holding out on me.”

As Cooler powered up in a torrent of blue violet, Vegeta grunted as he recognized that Cooler was swiftly outclassing him.

With a grimace, he clenched his fists and powered up, following suit.

Vegeta's body stumbled and jerked to a halt. But his energy hadn't gotten the memo. His muscles bulged and burned and he screamed through his teeth, clutching his head as his rapidly fluctuating ki rushed through him. With a groan of anguish, Vegeta fell to his knees, just as Cooler's final form loomed over him, snickering.

“This has been fun, mammal, but now it's time for you to go.” Cooler's leg raised as he prepared to decapitate Vegeta, just as a body dropped from the ceiling in Vegeta's purview. It swung around and pointed a gun straight at Cooler's back. Vegeta saw all this and nothing. His world was painted in a viscous black and red, his muscles quivering under the strain of ki several times the amount he was equipped to handle. But straining through the piceous, murky colors of energy that were swiftly consuming him, he saw a slender body shoot Cooler in the back and level the gun at him and shoot him, too.

He looked up into the blurred face of the intruder and fell into Bulma's fierce stare, her pretty face now capped with short hair and anchoring him in reality with a small, pink scouter.

“Get up,” she spoke to him. He heard it as if under water. He looked towards Cooler with painful slowness and saw that he was falling to his knees, clawing at his back and frothing at the mouth. Bulma stood above him, hand on her hip. She was absolutely stunning.

That's when the beast came to life and claimed what was left of his body.

With a raspy roar, Vegeta's aura exploded around him, pure black and marbled ruby, and turned toward his adversary.

“You've trifled with the wrong monkey,” said the beast. And he picked Cooler up and slammed him against the wall.

“Everyday,” it rasped from Vegeta,” for twenty years, I suffered defeat under the hands of your ugly brother and vowed to take my revenge. After my kingdom was taken from me, that was taken from me. Only to be humiliated,” he punctuated his rage by slamming Cooler's head against the wall, “on two back water planets and to never arrive at my life's goal. Well, you'll do nicely,” Vegeta bared his teeth cheerfully, “as restitution.”

He squeezed Cooler's neck and wasn't even paying him a bit of attention as his head drooped loosely to the side and then fell right off, rolling between his feet. All he saw was blood red, a bright white moon, and the maws of an ape.

He craned his neck and screamed at the moon, pregnant with portents. “I AM THE PRINCE OF ALL SAIYANS! I AM THE LEGENDARY. THIS EMPIRE IS MINE.”

His head swiveled when he heard a small sound.

Bulma stood watching him, gun hanging loosely in her hand, horrified.

“ARE YOU SCARED?” The beast asked. “YOU SHOULD BE.”

Vegeta's eyes weren't even his own anymore. They glinted red, glancing off the red swirling in his blackened aura.

Bulma let out what might have been a whimper.

“YOU'RE MINE,” it said, and as though reminded, it took a step toward her.

The double doors opened and soldiers began filing in, filling out around Vegeta, separating them. He sniffed the air, whipping his head back and forth as he watched each one with predatory intensity. Once they were all in the large auditorium, they dropped to their knees in near perfect unison.

“Long live Lord Vegeta!”

As though incited by the obeisance, Vegeta roared and beat his breast, ki a thick vortex around him. The soldiers gawked in amazement.

Bulma gaped as a single tear carved a path down her cheek.

She did the only thing she could do.

With one last try, Bulma strode through the soldiers toward Vegeta, who watched her with possessive, apish red eyes. Stepping into his ki, she grabbed at the back of his neck violently and kissed him with fearful abandon.

The auditorium erupted into cheers.