Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Requiem in Blue ❯ Chapter Seven: Yasa'kemmen ( Chapter 7 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

“You are a fool, boy.” The King muttered, despondent. “I am well aware of your short temper and immeasurably large ego, but I did not think I had raised a fool!”
Vejiita rolled his eyes and kept his arms firmly crossed against his puffed up chest.
“I am not a fool, Father.”  He snapped, venom dripping from his lips. “Would you rather I had refused the challenge like some piss-ant weakling?!”  His voice was rising slowly and insistently, threatening to ignite his ki cloud. The King growled at this display.
“YES!” He bellowed, turning to face his son and flaring his ki like a stabbing knife. “I admire your gallantry, Vejiita, but admit this once that you are outclassed! We pay homage and respect the Kassha’hal Brolli for that very reason! He outclasses each and every one of us. And until another one of us can reach his level of ascension, no one can best him in combat. No one, Vejiita, not even you.”
The Saiya-jin Prince ground his teeth together and shot deadly eyes towards the ground. When he lifted them again, his fiery ambition seemed to be pouring from each pore.
“I can reach his ascension, Kantak. Father…  If you’d only let me prove myself--!”
“No!” The King interjected, clenching his fists. “What part of it don’t you understand?! The Kassha’hal will pound you senseless into the ground. And in case you don’t recall, fool, the jyuu-shallak is a fight to the death!”
Vejiita felt a characteristic smirk creep up on his face.
“I am well aware. I had high hopes that the rules would not be changed.” He was also well aware that Brolli was standing silent outside the King’s closed chamber doors. He wondered if his father could sense it. His guess was no.
Vejiita-Zarshon sent a glare towards his son and turned to take a seat in his large plush chair. He stared at Vejiita-Zarshi for quite a long time before speaking again.
“I refuse it, Vejiita. You and the Kassha’hal will both learn that there are more important things to worry about now than a pretty little fuck toy! Gods…  With that slimy bastard Furiza breathing down my neck, and a band of stinking, fish-nosed Mizuka-jin conspiring against my throne, you’d think my own son would have enough sense to keep his eye on the true prize:  Furiza’s rotting corpse!”
Vejiita uncrossed his arms and held tensed fists at his sides. He forced down his pride for the time being and powered down.
“As you say, Father. Forgive my ignorance.”
Vejiita-Zarshon watched him carefully and retrieved a wine glass from a servant’s tray.
“I know you much better than that. You say you will obey me now, and so I must trust that. But heed my words, Vejiita; stay away from Brolli. When this mess with the Aisu-jin is taken care of, then you can concern yourself with such ridiculous matters as females.  And while we’re on the subject, stay away from the Chikyuu-jin for the moment as well.”
Vejiita growled deep and low in his throat. He knew damn well that his Father could sense the pheromones wrecking havoc on his scent…he knew it. He tightened his fists and felt the bunched muscles there begin to cramp.
“I will see the woman if I wish it,” he said, knowing it would provoke his Father…not caring, “the Kassha’hal has no claim upon her, no mark.”
The King sipped his wine and raised his brows.
“Then I will have to assign guards to your quarters and to accompany you day and night, Vejiita. I will not have an enraged Brolli ripping you a new gut. Just remember that I warned you. And there will be NO jyuu-shallak.”
Vejiita cringed against the refusal, but crossed his arms once more and nodded curtly.
“No jyuu-shallak,” he repeated. And then, “But the Shakan will not rip me anything.  He wouldn’t dare.”
“Perhaps not,” the King said thoughtfully. “But females have a strange power over their men, Vejiita, you know that by now. That blue-haired scientist has already clouded Brolli’s mind; obviously, or he would not have challenged you in the first place. And if you’re not careful, yours will be too.”
Vejiita smirked and “harrumphed” cruelly.
“I am not so weak,” he sneered, “no woman has that kind of power over me.”
The King sat up straight and leaned forward.
“Oh, no?” He chuckled for a moment and then leaned back into the plush padding of the chair.  “Gods…those words sound so repulsively familiar. Get out of my sight for now, Vejiita. I have other things to think about. If you want to make yourself more useful, see how much more you can find out about this resistance group. I have need of your sharp mind, my son. Use it to your advantage.”
Those words at least brought a boost to Vejiita’s damaged self-esteem, and he smiled wickedly.
“Very well, Father,” he paused and brought his feet together, then bowed.  “I will bring you more information at the end of the day.”
The King raised a brow and cocked his head to the side.
“Excellent,” he said, voice full of disdain. “Get to it. And remember my words, this day, Vejiita. You are my only heir.  I won’t have you casting your life to the wayside for such trivial matters.”
The Prince nearly sighed aloud with exasperation, but he saw the truth in his father’s eyes and nodded, blinking.
“Of course, Kantak.”
With that, the Prince took his leave and threw open the old chamber doors with a heavy slam. Once they had closed behind him, he stopped and glanced to his right. In the shadows stood the heavy bulk of the Kassha’hal Brolli. The other man was regarding him with cool eyes and a resting ki. Vejiita wanted to rip out his throat…
“It’s quite lucky for you that my father could not read your subdued ki, Kassha’hal.”  He said, seething red anger.  Brolli smiled gently and pushed himself from the wall. He uncrossed his arms, and his metal wristbands clinked together. Vejiita snarled quietly. Brolli’s body tensed, and he breathed in.
“Lucky indeed, My Prince.”  He paused and began heading down the hallway.  “If there is no jyuu-shallak, then there is no debate.  Bulma is mine.”
Vejiita tempted his fate one last time and shouted to Brolli’s retreating back.
“The last time I met with your female, Brolli, she did not seem to think so.  She is no slave, as you say.  So, let her do the choosing.”
Brolli’s back contracted tightly and he swiveled around to face Vejiita.
“Very well,” he said through his teeth. Then without any more hesitation, he said, “But why should she want gold when she can have platinum, Zarshi-kalan?”
The words infuriated him, but Vejiita suppressed his temper long enough to run his tongue over his lip.
“A metal is often not so worthy of its luster, Kassha’hal.”  He paused and tilted his chin to the side, grinning evilly.  Brolli snarled through his upper lip and nodded.
“Suukah.”

Bulma stood in her lab, clutching the small device in her hand and poking at it with her static stabilizer.  No need to get shocked now, was there? The pin-sized point of the tool made a tiny little spark inside the device she held within her hand, and then it was safe to open it fully.
She studied the inside of the plasma equalizer with squinting and curious eyes. The small thing had been enough to cause the detonation inside the factory on Ten’rili. Bulma poked her index finger inside the swirling nucleus that she’d designed herself, and watched as it flickered and opened. Without hesitation, she reached into the tool organizer beside her on the table to retrieve a small tube. The red light on the tip of it blinked in steady rhythm as she flicked on the tester and stuck the end of it into the swirling plasma. After a few seconds, the light flickered and became a steady green.
So…the plasma hadn’t been tampered with. Then what had caused the explosion? No matter though, she would have the problem contained within a fortnight. If the plasma had not been damaged then at least production of the rifles could be resumed and not much time would have been lost in the process. She wondered if there had been any damage to the encapsulated cannons that were stored next to the facility that manufactured the plasma rifles. Surely, she thought, an electrically related explosion could not have affected their stability. Bulma resolved that she would have to perform several tests on them to be sure.
Exhausted, she sighed lazily and flicked off her desk lamp, then headed for the exit. She removed her lab coat and hung it next to the door, which she leaned against before punching in her lock code to open it. The door slid open with a refreshing whoosh and revealed the empty hallway.  Bulma squinted.  How odd for the corridors to be empty at this time of early evening, especially now with the visitation of the Royal Party.
Or perhaps that’s where everyone was. She had not seen Brolli since this afternoon and had retreated to her lab after waking from a deep sleep.  Bulma sneered… Brolli would pay for taking advantage of her as he had, just as the Monkey Prince would pay. Though she had more intricate and complicated ways of destroying what was left of the Kassha’hal’s pride and self-confidence.
His words that afternoon had infuriated her, enough to promise to herself that she would never allow the same kind of incident again. It was a Kami-forsaken shame that she couldn’t end it with Brolli now.  But as much as she believed that she was indeed a free woman, ending her torrid affair with him would place her in a difficult predicament. After all, how else was she to gain more information about their movements against the Aisu-jin Empire?  Detailed maps of the Governor’s Palace?  And most especially; access to her equipment and lab facilities were a necessity now. She would not be able to work without them.
Besides, being pleasured by the most powerful man in the known universe had its upsides.  Who would turn away from such an exquisite lover or turn down the promise of other experiences from his Prince’s attentions? Bulma shook her head irritably…
Soon, she knew Emperor Furiza would try to strike a deal with her, and the rebellious Mizuka-jin she had recruited.  But Bulma was unsure of what her decision would be. Incinerate the monkeys herself? Or form a deceptive alliance with the slimy Aisu-jin and make use of their strength--only to let them burn with the monkeys in the end? Each outcome was pleasant enough.  The only question remaining was; how many birds to kill with one stone?
Bulma slid her silky scarf around her neck and let it flare behind her. The soft, minty-green glow of it matched her silken dress to the mark, and she was quite pleased with it. If indeed there were festivities tonight, she would not be unprepared to say the least. She moved quietly about the hall, her sandaled feet noiselessly carrying her through the corridors and toward her quarters for a much needed soak in the tub.
She rounded the corner hurriedly and crashed head on into a large, definitely male, body. That seemed to have been her forte these past couple of days. The plasma equalizer she’d been carrying flew from her fingers, and Bulma nearly cursed aloud. Her worries were increased tenfold when she saw that the body she had inadvertently been flung into belonged to none other than the Aash’an Raditsu.
To hide her fear of discovery, and distract him, she flashed a winning smile and nodded her head once at the thick-haired warrior.
“Captain Raditsu…  You’ll pardon me.”  She flustered, and pressed a hand to her chest in mock surprise.
Raditsu watched her for a moment, and she wondered briefly if he would say a word at all.  After all, she thought, the poor thing.  I broke his heart. Bulma suppressed a very worthy smirk and clasped her sweaty palms together. Raditsu was glancing towards the plasma equalizer, as it lay a few feet to his right on the marble floor.
“Of course, Lady Bulma,” he said finally.
Bulma’s eyes narrowed at the sound of his voice. It had truly been a while since he’d spoken to her, and the noise filled her with some kind of uncertain feeling. The idea that it could have been guilt was fleeting, but Bulma pushed it from her mind as quickly as it had come. Bulma nearly leapt out of her skin when Raditsu leaned over to pick up the plasma equalizer. He gave it a once over, and Bulma prayed to Kami that the monkey had too little tech knowledge to have any idea of what he was gazing at.  Finally, he raised his eyebrows and handed it over.
“I believe you dropped this.”
Bulma took it gingerly from his big hand and nodded a thank you.
“Many thanks, Aash’an,” she said, her voice dropping into dangerously sensuous territory.  Bulma saw that it had some sort of effect on him, whether it was conscious or not she could not tell. The Captain nodded in reply and stepped aside, fully ready to retreat from her presence completely. Bulma wanted to run to him, stroke his head and say, aww, poor monkey. Don’t be too upset now… She almost giggled and then called out to him.
“Raditsu!”
The captain stopped abruptly. He looked as though he may keep walking until he finally shrugged his shoulders and turned to face her.
“Lady Bulma?” He asked, the name dancing off of his lips like poison. She carefully dropped the plasma equalizer into the pocket inside her dress skirt and took a few steps towards him. She stopped when he looked wary.
“It’s been a long time, Raditsu,” she said, suddenly very conscious of his hard gaze. He was clad in handsome Royal Elite armor, blazoning the red and black colors of House Vejiita-sei. A jet-black cape with a crimson lining flowed from his back, making the bulk of his shoulders seem even more intimidating.  Bulma smiled, a little too warmly.  “Won’t you even ask me how I am?”
Raditsu’s eyebrows furrowed, and he looked as though the words she spoke were scathing to his soul. He straightened his back and cracked his neck.
“Forgive me, Lady Bulma,” he said finally, the words a croaking hiss. “I wasn’t aware that I should care about things like that.”
Bulma laughed then, a quiet lady-like sort of cackle, and she reached out to touch his arm. He recoiled at this, and she drew back slightly.
“Ever the cynic, Raditsu…” she said quietly, then, “well, I shall ask you. How have the past two years fared upon the noble Aash’an? Well I hope?”
Raditsu studied her with some scrutiny before he narrowed his obsidian eyes. His brows were nearly touching with the amount of concentration and suspicion on his face.
“As well as you need concern yourself with, Bulma.” He said, the quirks of a smile dancing upon the corner of his mouth. Bulma raised an eyebrow and stepped towards him again.
“Well, I suppose I should be glad of that.” She mewled. When she stopped walking, her face crumpled up into disappointment that could have fooled the most trained of men. She was sure Raditsu would not notice the put on. “I was…sorry that you missed the Shak’ala, Raditsu. I heard you were attending to matters of state.”
Raditsu shifted uncomfortably and tilted his head to the side.
“I was.  Also, nothing you need concern yourself with.”
Bulma almost growled at him.  This might be harder than she had anticipated. Finally, she was less than a foot from his body.  His arms tensed next to his body, and she could almost hear the creak of his armor as he shifted back and forth on his feet.
“Much as you would like to believe it, Raditsu,” she said, “I am not as uninformed as you think.”
Raditsu chuckled this time; it was a cruel, haunting sort of noise. To her surprise, his hand rose slowly, and fingers brushed at some loose strands of her waterfall-like mane. Bulma’s jaw tightened when his fingers tangled cruelly in it. He leaned into her and snarled.
“Don’t tempt me with your wit, Bulma.  I have half a mind to rape you right in this hallway and toss your broken, bleeding body atop Brolli’s bed so that he can see you like the whore you are.”
Bulma refused to allow her fear to show. Much as she knew how much power she wielded when dealing with the males of their pathetic species, if Raditsu truly wanted to rape her now he would not have any trouble doing so. But Bulma had more ammunition under her belt than that.
“I wouldn’t recommend it, Raditsu,” she said steadily, pleased with the way she controlled her voice. “He’d kill you, you know?”
Bulma nearly faltered when Raditsu grinned evilly.
“To see you humiliated…  I think it would be more than enough to make me die happily.”
She creased her brow upwards and parted her lips.
“In retribution for all of your pain, no doubt? Am I right?”
Raditsu’s hand slid lower, and Bulma felt blood sing in her ears. He gripped her throat ever so lightly, and touched his lips to her nose.
“No, Shal’ba…  It would not even equal half of the humiliation I have suffered at your hands.”
“Come, come now Aash’an!” Bulma fumbled for words under his heated breath. “Surely a true warrior such as you knows how to forgive and to forget. I was willing to offer you a truce when I saw you today.”
Raditsu’s grip tightened, and she whimpered low in her throat.
“What could you possibly have that I want?”  He snarled.  “And why would I want to give you anything in return?”
Bulma smiled as sweetly as she ever had in her life, through her fear, and reached up to curl her fingers around his wrist.  When she was about to lie, Bulma could always conjure a sickeningly sweet smile.
“I think you want information on the Mizuka-jin rebellion, Raditsu.  They trust me, you know.  I could easily find out what you want to know.”
And deceive them in the process.  If she could lead them further away from the actual base on Ten’rili, and away from her work in the lab—it would ensure more security to their cause!  Raditsu’s hand released her throat and hovered at the soft pale skin near her collar bone.
Bulma dared to lower her hand and trace the furry surface of the tail wrapped around Raditsu’s waist. His body went rigid before her, and he growled deeply in his chest. This time it was not anger that elicited the groan, and Bulma felt her lips curl into a knowing smile.
To her dismay though, Raditsu's other hand shot out from its position at his side and caught her probing digits in their tracks. And then suddenly his hand was around her throat again. Bulma growled aloud this time, and struggled against his grip. Raditsu chuckled viciously and leaned in to sneer against her mouth.
“You play a tempting game, larushinta.  I should have known you’d try this on me again. After all you always did need to have the last say.”
Bulma took deep heaving breaths and clasped her hands back around his wrist. Kami! How she wished she’d had a finished prototype of the plasma stunner at this moment! But she made due with hands and fists at the moment.
“It’s a shame, Aash’an, that you aren’t more receptive to my offers at the moment. Shall I--?”  Her voice was cut off as he tightened his hold on her throat. Bulma whimpered and struggled.
“You shall not,” Raditsu’s voice came in clearly. “And if you come near me again, Bulma, I’ll give you exactly what you need:  what you’ve been asking for.”
“Will you…?” Bulma croaked, allowing a grin to erupt on her mouth. His hand contracted more, and this time her smile faded.
“I’ll use you like you deserve to be used--!” He growled this time, and found that her feet were dangling gently in the air.  Gods, maybe he really was going to kill her this time.  Fitting…  When Bulma tried to emit an instinctual, full-fledged cry, a bellowing voice echoed through the hallway.
“AASH’AN!”
The grip on her throat loosened instantaneously, and Bulma squealed as Raditsu hurriedly placed her back on her feet, and then dropped to one knee beside her. Bulma swiveled around to see that Prince Vejiita was standing not twenty feet away from them, his beautifully powerful arms crossed across that pride-filled chest in a stance that would have frightened even the Shakan Brolli.  Raditsu remained on his knee, and Bulma watched the scene with wide, hesitant eyes.
“Suukah, Zarshi-kalan,” the Aash’an said miserably, “forgive me.”
Bulma saw Vejiita stride over towards them, the confidence never leaving his stance--never faltering once. She bowed her head respectfully as he approached. The Prince gave her a once over, and she felt heat rise in her cheeks for a moment. His eyes left her, and Bulma watching him cross his arms over the broad expanse of his chest. The Saiya-jin who only bested her in height by an inch or two seemed a thousand feet tall in comparison to the giant Raditsu, who knelt beside her.
“Just what in all the gods’ names do you think you’re doing?” The Prince asked, his voice a gentle peal of authority. Bulma’s blood pressure skyrocketed. Raditsu’s fists clenched angrily at his sides, and Bulma raised an eyebrow with great amusement.
“I--?” he stammered, his eyes still lowered to the ground.  “Forgive me, My Prince.”
Vejiita watched the man for a moment, and Bulma saw the veins in his neck straining against his skin. How curious!  He’s absolutely enraged. She hid a smirk and ran the tip of her tongue against her top lip. The Prince raised his palm into the air.
“Get up,” he said, motioning for the Captain to stand. “I would advise your distance from Lady Bulma henceforth, Captain.  Unless you’d like me to repeat the same action on your neck.”
Raditsu looked absolutely furious, but Bulma saw his jaw clench, and he nodded sharply. He saluted.
“Of course, Prince Vejiita.” He muttered, his fist turning white with the intensity of his frustration.
Vejiita nodded once and motioned for him to leave. Just as he had begun to stride down the hallway, a basket of nerves, Bulma saw him turn to glare at her. Vejiita was not looking. The Aash’an snarled and ran the tip of his tongue against his upper lip. Bulma wanted to laugh, but she dare not. Much as she loved teasing the gorgeous warrior, it just wouldn’t be right. When she turned back to face the Prince, he was smirking handsomely.
“You provoked him, didn’t you?”
Bulma stared at him with wide, dazed eyes, and then placed a delicate hand upon her breast.
“I, Zarshi-kalan?  Why would I do such a thing?” She smiled brightly and wondered if the gentle shimmer on her skin was as evident as it felt. She became disoriented when the Prince let forth a chuckle as sexy as the rest of him.
“Indeed,” he said, narrowing his eyelids and gazing at her with intense warmth and something akin to proposition. “Indeed, why would you?” He asked, looking entirely too curious. Bulma shuddered involuntarily and watched him carefully. She felt one eyebrow rise defiantly when he spoke again.
“Why poor Raditsu, hm? Haven’t you caused him enough grief?” His mouth twitched in dire amusement, and Bulma smiled like a thieving vixen.
“I wouldn’t worry so about the Aash’an Raditsu…” she informed him, “he has no remaining interest in me.”
Vejiita’s eyes glimmered with a cheap rip off of pity.
“Doesn’t he?” He asked, looking entirely too haughty, Bulma decided.  “What a shame.” His voice had dropped to a low murmur, and his mouth had strategically positioned itself near her ear. Bulma felt her heart rate increase a few notches when he flicked the delicate earring on her lobe and nipped at it. Only a few seconds passed before she knew what his intent was. The gesture was most obviously intentional, and Bulma smirked before slinking away from his body heat.
“I suppose I’ll have to learn how to take rejection, Zarshi-kalan…yes?” She could even feel the teasing quality in her voice without having to listen for it. But she was insistent; she had vowed not to be cornered by him again. The Prince regarded her with intrigue for a moment, and then tightened his fists at his sides.
“Somehow I just can’t see the word ‘surrender’ being part of your extensive vocabulary, not even in your native tongue.”  He said, his voice slipping into the cracks in the marbled hallway.  “You look like a woman who gets what she wants--all the time.”
Bulma raised an eyebrow.
“A keen observation, Prince Vejiita.  And I only pursue the best choice.” But there’s no need for you to know that you’re high on the list.
Vejiita smirked and chuckled.  Bulma decided that it was a rather cruel sound. He strained his muscles a bit and phased out, reappearing just behind her. She gasped and then held it in as his hands came to rest upon her waist, squeezing in a rather domineering fashion. She tensed, more from fear than anything else, as his hand slipped near the pocket where her plasma equalizer lay hidden. Bulma tried to pry away, but his arms were too strong.
“I think you will find, Shal’ba,” his voice was tearing into her ears now, “that I am not typical of most men who fall under your spell.”
The teasing, degrading tone of his voice, paired with his probing fingers made her nearly growl aloud with frustration. Raditsu had not known what the little piece of tech was, but she could not be sure Vejiita would not.  That fact made blood pound into her ears. In a frenzy, she slid her hands over his and hoped that he could not feel the nervous sweat on her palms, if only to stop his further descent.
“Do you think so, Zarshi-kalan…?” She asked, breathless and seemingly aroused—though she was sure not for the same reason as he thought. Kami!  They’ll send my soul to hell through a laundry machine for all of this, surely… The man behind her chuckled, and she found it surprisingly relaxing.
“I know so.”  His voice had dropped to a whisper, and it was the single most frightening thing she had ever heard.
Everything about it, from the words themselves right down to the tone and quality of the whisper; it made her skin crawl. She shuddered in his arms and leaned against him in a desperate attempt at fooling him into releasing her. Her body was on the verge of convulsing, and yet she craved more of his husky whisper and sweet touch.
Bulma felt a sob begin to form in her throat, and her eyes flew open when the tips of his fingers flew over her skirt pocket. They lingered there, and for a moment his hold on her body loosened. She took this opportunity to her advantage and slid away from him. She heard that voice chuckle again, and it ended on the fine edges of a satisfied growl. Bulma stared and caught her breath, unable to speak or to move. The Prince moved towards her, but did not make another attempt to ensnare her body again; though Bulma would have been hard-pressed to resist.  She knew that bitterly.
Vejiita lifted a finger and pressed it underneath her chin so that she was looking at him eye to eye. The fire beneath his sable gaze was blazing passionately, and Bulma knew then that what she had inadvertently started with the arrogant man before her was much more than she had bargained for…much, much more. He grinned again, this time looking positively aroused by her struggle. A few seconds went by, and all he did was stare--pierce her eye sockets with dizzying intensity. Bulma blinked once, and he drew a finger across her bottom lip.
“I know so, because I’m the only one in this palace who knows what you’ve got in your pocket, and what it’s capable of.  Plasma has a high ki reading, did you know, Shal’ba? Though, I suppose you wouldn’t.”
Bulma gazed on in horrified realization as he continued.
“Not many people can sense it’s reading however, it has an extremely low frequency. My father is not tech literate enough to understand the device, let alone sense its frequency. I’m sure not even the great Kassha’hal can sense when you’ve got one of those close to your breast, can he?”
Another pause, and Bulma felt a single drop of sweat drip down her spine. It itched like a madman’s delusion. Bulma snarled silently and dared to try and release her chin from his finger. She was rewarded with a sharp click when he gripped her chin and held her gaze again.
“Just what are you insinuating--?  Who do you think you are?” She hissed, becoming all too fraught with anxiety. His eyes narrowed, but to her great surprise, they were a shade less than infuriated. And he laughed softly again, the noise making gel out of her bones.
“Someone who knows how to keep secrets, Shal’ba.  If it’s in my best interest of course. You do know that plasma is a contraband product on free worlds within the Empire?  It’s excavation, use in weaponry, everything is prohibited.” She nodded slowly, fighting the desire to rip his balls off or stroke them until he groaned aloud in that same voice. Vejiita ran his tongue against his teeth when he smiled. “I’m sure you have a perfectly good reason for having it though, don’t you, Shall’la?”
The sudden and unexpected use such a saccharine term of endearment as “my love” made her furious again, and she snapped her chin from his fingers.
“Say what you want!” She growled. “I was instructed by Shakan Brolli to continue scientific weapons research on Mizukashi, and I have done that. Even you are not foolish enough to make false assumptions, Zarshi-kalan. Plasma may be contraband within the free worlds of the Empire, but does that mean I can’t use it for the Empire?  It is a powerful weapon if yielded properly.”
“One that we have no use for, Lady Bulma. The Saiya-jin have not used weapons in the four hundred centuries since our kind first stood upright and ripped out an enemy’s throat. You’ll have a hard time trying to convince anyone else of your good intentions,” he paused and grinned, “but since I’m so soft-hearted I’ll agree to keep your little criminal offense to myself.”
Bulma laughed once, the sound full of seething vitriol.
“In exchange for…?”
She watched the Prince until his grin faded, and his large, gloved hand reached out to press against her back and pull her flush against his solid chest. Bulma fought back the urge to sigh as he drew lazy circles on her lower back and nuzzled his nose against hers.
“I’m not an unkind lover.” He murmured the words against her mouth. “Unless you ask.” He paused and their lips met tenderly. Bulma cursed him, cursed herself and cursed the gentle touch of his mouth. How could he be so deceptively, yet convincingly kind and at the same time so horrifying? He breathed into her mouth once and lifted his free hand to caress a lock of shimmering azure hair.  “Let me finish what I started with you.”
Vejiita’s voice was the softest silk against her skin, and she was sure she had never heard his kind of accent before.  There was something almost magical about it.  Something supernatural.  Bulma forced her eyes open and felt her chest begin to ache mercilessly. His gentle voice, and even softer touch set a puddle of tears within the corners of her eyes…and she remembered Chikyuu…
She pushed away as politely as possible and watched his face for signs of arrogance and pride. But when she found none, she reluctantly realized that her plight was more than significant. With a few sighs of defeat and exhaustion, she lifted her chin.
“It’s your decision, Lady Bulma.”  Vejiita said.  “I asked, I did not tell,” he stopped and leaned in closer, “but I’d like it very much if I had the pleasure of your presence tonight.” His mouth lingered on hers for a moment, and then he kissed her.
Bulma wanted to cry out with pain and regret; for it was the first real kiss she’d ever known since leaving Chikyuu. His mouth was sweet and soft, and it explored hers with hesitant curiosity, rather than the urgent brutality and demanding need that she was used to from Brolli, or even from Raditsu. No, Vejiita’s kiss was different. It was not just devouring and consuming, though it had these elements. No, it was passionate. It was hopeful and beautiful; kind and…and…loving!
Bulma broke the kiss voluntarily as the word echoed in her mind, and she refused to believe it. None of these monsters were capable of real emotion, of real care and concern. They were nothing more than animals:  brutal barbarians who used the innocent people of this universe as their playthings…weren’t they?
Vejiita released her and leaned backward to get a good look at her. Yes, there was the look. Perhaps the little vixen wouldn’t be as hard to tame as he’d originally thought. Every female had a weakness, even a Saiya-jin variety. Most sexually adept women could not be fooled by this act; but he saw within her the deep need to be loved despite all that she practiced and preached. It wouldn’t take long to break her down…  Not long at all.
As slowly as he could, he slid his hand from her back and waist, then turned from her and headed down the hallway. Vejiita couldn’t help the way his lips curled into a smile that was evil and wholly cruel in its own right.