Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Mistress ❯ Chapter Five. ( Chapter 5 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: HeartlessChild 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.23.2004 | Pages: 8 | Words: 5.6K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.23.2004 | Pages: 8 | Words: 5.6K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Completed
WARNING: Rated R for language and sexual content, (mild lemon/lime).
Khron---Blue Lady in Saiy-go (my version of the Saiyan language).
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Chapter Five.
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It was the nausea. Gods, the damn nausea!
She couldn't take it anymore--it was driving her to break the last straw of sanity she possessed. Ever since Vegeta had returned to the Capital, she had been feeling sick repeatedly. She had merely dismissed the illness, blaming it on the change of climate.
Summer was fast approaching, which meant that a number of the population who were not born on the planet, experienced violent heat flashes and on going nausea throughout the summer months due to the lack of water and fresh vegetation offered in their diets.
Bulma groaned, "Fucking weather," she was distinctly aware of the comforting hand rubbing her back as she kneeled over the marble wash basin. She stood shakily, batting the ruby hand away rudely.
"Mistress?"
She winced as Nena's concerned voice lanced through her mind.
"I'm fine," the hoarse reply fell softly from her pale, quivering lips.
Nena's brow furrowed in suspicion, "Here," she said gently, offering the blue haired woman a glass of sumaki milk, "This will help to dispel the acid in your throat," she added, watching as the beautiful woman downed the glass in one gulp.
"May I be so bold as to suggest something, Mistress?"
Bulma frowned, brushing away her sweaty cerulean locks from her forehead, "What is it?"
Nena cleared her throat, "I think that these heat flashes and spells of nausea you're experiencing isn't because of the climate changes. It may be because," she blushed, "Well--you might be with child..."
She blinked at the snow white eyes shifting uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze.
The full force of Nena's words hit her like a lightning bolt from a darkened, thunderous sky. The rumbling thunder of apprehension trembled in her veins. She had been aware that neither Nena or her mother had not yet experienced any hot flashes... But--But...
"No, you're wrong," a tremor of fear shook her body as she took a step backwards from the ruby-skinned woman.
Could she be?
"This can't be happening!" Bulma cried, shaking her head violently. "This... This cannot happen!" She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed... Prayed that Nena's hypothesis was untrue. Had she forgotten to take her contraceptive medicine? Yes... She must have. But--how could she have been so stupid! Her pale hand fluttered to her stomach, resting delicately upon the flat plane. Nena was wrong! She had to be...
"Go to the market and see if you can find a reliable test," she commanded urgently, "We will settle this matter pending on the result of this test."
Nena nodded and quickly turned to leave.
"If I am pregnant... He's going to kill me," Bulma whispered to herself as the painted world around her faded into black.
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The rustle of leaves from behind alerted her to another presence.
She stood up quickly on the boulder beneath the slowly trickling fall of water from the cliff above, whirling around with a practised speed and agility. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of the Saiyan Prince she had tended to the previous night.
But--how had he recovered so quickly?! She was certain that his wounds were deep and would take weeks to heal. But here he was, standing before her, looking completely healed! Perhaps she had been wrong to tend to him. He truly looked like a dangerous, wild beast at that moment...
They stared at one another for what seemed like a lifetime to her, but was merely seconds as he tore his eyes from her to drink in the appearance of the spectacular view that her naked body offered. She watched the corner of his lip quirk upwards to the heavens in amusement.
A furious blush stained the peaks of her high cheek bones as she frantically jumped off the boulder, into the murky depths of the slowly flowing azure river.
She swam steadily towards the bank where he now stood beside the rags of her clothing, waiting for her. A shiver erupted from the base of her spine as she felt his penetrating gaze locked on her hidden form beneath the rolling waves of water from the river.
As she reached the bank, she stopped before his feet and looked up fearlessly, wondering why the merchants and traders had been afraid of this young Prince. True, his demeanor held superiority and poise, and an air of deadly intent seemed to be resting upon his shoulders but... But he was awfully small for Saiyan standards. However, he was a small man with such a large presence!
Bulma suppressed a giggle but choked on her internal laughter as he quickly crouched down before her.
She jerked back warily at the sudden movement, eyeing his out stretched hand suspiciously.
"Well?" he growled.
The word did not make any sense to her. It had been spoken in his language, and so she frowned up at him in confusion before gently placing her own hand into his calloused one. Even though his hand was rough, it was warm and inviting and--it caused a multitude of ripples to accumulate at the base of her stomach. She gasped as he abruptly pulled her out in one fluid motion, pulling her quivering, wet body towards him.
A strangled cry burst forth from her mouth as she desperately tried to tug her hand back, to no avail. Gods, how strong was he?! She knew that the Saiyans were a warrior race but to possess such a great amount of strength could not lead to any good deeds...
"Let go!" She shouted, one of the few common words she knew how to say. She had been taught them when she'd served a Saiyan diplomat's family, who lived within close approximation of the King's palace. It was known that Saiyan men almost always took a fancy towards the servant girls they acquired. Some were even known to have died whilst being raped. It was what she feared the most; that it would happen to her.
"So, this mystical being before me actually speaks?" He smirked sadistically and he fingered the sharp contours of her cheek bone, chuckling as she withdrew from his ministrations in clear disgust.
She watched helplessly as he ran the pad of his thumb across the bridge of her nose, running it down from her forehead to the pointed tip, tapping it softly as one would do to a child.
It was as if--as if he were trying to imprint the lines and indentations of her face in his mind, committing them to memory... But why? There was a strange gleam in his obsidian eyes and it glittered like a shooting star falling from the heavens. She forced herself to remain still; it was useless to struggle, she was powerless against him.
Please let go of me, she thought fearfully.
Her plea was granted as he blinked and roughly pushed her away, awakening himself from the supposed trance he had been cast under. She frowned as he began to mumble, it was as if he was berating himself for something; but what? She certainly hadn't done anything. If anyone should be angry, it was her. Wasn't he the one who had ogled her naked body?
Her eyes shifted to the pile of animal skin clothes to her right. They were too far away, but now would be the perfect opportunity for her to escape. A raging debate formed in her mind as she looked at the Saiyan and back at her clothes. There was no time, she would have to come back for them later.
As he continued to berate himself, she rushed passed him and ran into the green depths of the forest, not once looking back. From behind her, she could her his surprised and angry shout as she zipped through the tall trees, desperately trying to seek out a hiding place. If he found her, he would kill her; of this, she was certain.
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"This is great," he muttered to himself, "Stuck with a foul-smelling, weakling of a whore that can't even understand what I'm saying!"
But his words were meaningless.
Foul-smelling? She smelled divine! Like the scented yellow and white lilies that grew on the vines of the jungle forest. So sweet and musky, fresh and cool like the flower, all rolled into one. She must use the lilly's sap as her soap, he concluded. Gods, he never knew how much he actually liked the smell; may his father forgive him for sounding like a weakling! It was enticing and alluring--what sane man on the planet could resist? He certainly couldn't.
As his primal instincts began to come into full force, he had to pull himself away from her wet, naked body for fear of claiming her then and there. And a whore? Who was he trying to fool? Her scent indicated that she had never... Never in her life--exactly how old was she? She barely looked over twenty-five. It was endearing to think that a beautiful creature like her hadn't been soiled by male hands. Perhaps he could--
He blinked. But--how had she managed to survive in the wilderness? It looked like she had been living in the area for years. He concluded that she must nto be as weak as he originally thought but... She certainly felt fragile when he held her in his arms. The weak structure of her delicate bones was enough to indicate her strength, but as his father always told him; looks can be deceiving.
He was roused from his thoughts as he felt a slight shift in the air around him. Before he could register what was occurring, he found himself watching her retreating back disappearing into the dark depths of the forest. For a moment, he watched her swaying cerulean locks dance back and forth against the wind, before she vanished completely into the thick foliage.
Vegeta snarled loudly.
That bitch! After his benevolence in releasing her, she repays him by running away?!
Without a second thought towards the gaping wound in his side, he took off after her. After all, his honor was at stake; once again he had let his guard drop and he would be damned if he was going to be beaten twice in one week; especially by an alien woman! His pride and honor would be diminished if he didn't punish her.
Vegeta caught up with the pathetically slow creature in a matter of seconds. In his boiling blind rage, he tackled her to the ground, disregarding her frailty as he pinned her naked body down beneath him onto the green mossy grass. She cried out in pain, but her cry reached deaf ears. "You think you can outsmart me!" He screamed, snarling as he straddled her struggling body, "Do you know who I am, bitch? DO YOU KNOW?! I am the Prince of all Saiyans, strongest in the universe! I'll have your fucking head for this, disobedient wench!"
He raised his hand to smash a thundering smack against her cheek, baring his teeth as he did so. At the last moment, instinct told him to hold back his strength as his palm connected with the bone of her cheek.
In the next moment, horror coiled around his chest as the sound of a loud snap and crack reached his ears. His heavy breathing slowed to a gentle rasp as the seconds slowly ticked by. She wasn't moving, not a sound came from her mouth.
Vegeta stared in dumb shock at the unconscious, limp woman beneath him. She looked like a broken toy as she lay under his heavy body, as if she had been discarded by an angry child. He crouched backwards onto the balls of his feet, watching her as the forest around him suddenly grew quiet. The chirping of insects faded into the thick atmosphere of silence; his only reaction was to watch her... She looked--dead. Perhaps he had been too rough?
But... But he held back! He--he had only used a fraction of his strength! How in God's name was it possible for her to be hurt so badly by him? A trickle of guilt entered his mind unknowingly. He brushed it away as he looked around at the dense forest. Looking back at the broken woman, he shook his head and reached out gingerly, using his index finger to turn her head so that he could inspect the damage he had caused upon her left cheek.
He winced internally; at least she was breathing.
A bluish, round bruise was already forming in the aftermath of his attack. It looked angry... The product of his violence.
He cursed to himself. Now what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't fly back to the Capital for at least another day due to his own wound, especially if he had to carry her with him! Standing up slowly, he reached down and pulled her into his arms, cradling her body against his chest as he made his way towards the sound of the river. He would have to retrieve her clothes and take her back to the temple, it was the only thing he could think of. If not, it would have been better to kill her off there and then, but he wanted... Needed answers from this blue-haired creature.
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Bulma reached out with a trembling hand as she took a small brown, cubed box from Nena's outstretched palm. She peeled off the lid and slowly scowled with determination as she pulled out a strip of gritty, pale yellow strip of what looked like paper.
Her fear-filled eyes glanced at her devoted servant before she gently placed the small, thin strip onto the tip of her tongue. It tasted tangy, but sugary at the same time. It wasn't unpleasant nor was it uncomfortable, but the gritty texture made her tongue itch.
She closed her eyes as she felt her body shake with anticipation. The minutes had gone by achingly slowly after she had awoken from her blackout, as Nena went to buy the test for her at the market. Now that the time had come for her take the test, she didn't want to know the result. A feeling of misery shrouded itself around her shoulders, weighing her down as she tapped her foot impatiently against the stone-tiled floor.
"Mistress, I think two minutes have passed."
Bulma almost wanted to open her eyes and glare at the servant for rushing her along. She pulled the strip from her mouth and held it between her index finger and thumb; her limbs were now quivering and she couldn't force herself to open her eyes. They were jammed shut, her body refused to listen to her mind!
"What color is it?" She whispered hoarsely, swallowing to obtain more moisture in her dry throat.
"It's black," Nena whispered in response.
"Black..." Bulma murmured to herself. What did the label on the box say? Blue meant that the test was negative, brown showed uncertainty but black... Black meant her death; both hers and her unborn child's. "Oh Gods," she crumpled to the floor, refusing to open her eyes. If she did, she would have to face reality... She would have to face him. And she wasn't sure if she could. Could she sit there and tell him? No, she was a coward, she wanted to live! She didn't want to die, didn't want her child to die.
She could feel herself being lifted by two pairs of gentle hands; Nena and her mother.
It was at that moment she realized she didn't know Nena's mother's name. Her eyes fluttered open, locking with the older woman's, "What's your name?" She asked numbly, ignoring the concerned gazes of her servants.
"My name is Zarai, Mistress," the old woman replied softly. Her cool hand felt wonderful against her hot forehead, as she brushed away the few strands of cerulean hair that fell over her eyes.
Then, the world around her disappeared for a second time.
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Bulma groaned, shifting her body only to find that her muscles had gone stiff. How--? She brushed the ground beneath her with her knuckles, marvelling at the softness she felt. Since when had grass become so smooth and soft at the same time? She quickly sat up, blinking as the rush of blood to her head clouded her vision. Shaking her head, she suspiciously analyzed her surroundings.
She was... In a room!
A rather elaborate room, if she remembered from her past experience as a servant. It was dark but there was a dimly lit lamp on the oak table at the far side of the room that offered her enough light to observe everything. Where in Gods name had she--? Fallen, shattered memories began to rise up and join together once more. Things were becoming clearer with every shard that was put back into place.
It was him.
He did this to her! She raised her hand and touched her fingers to her left cheek. She felt nothing; no pain, no fracture. Nothing was broken or felt bruised--she was perfectly fine. So then had everything just been a dream? She was sure that he was going to kill her when she saw the murderous intent in his eyes as he pushed her to the ground. But here she was, alive and without a scratch on her. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
A quick movement of a dark shadow flew across the room to her side. She gasped as the shadow was replaced by the figure of the man who had almost killed her. He looked at her with cold, unsmiling eyes. She shook fearfully and drew back, pulling the thick covers around her as she did so. She noticed that she was now fully clothed in a gown of some sorts; had he--? She blushed at the thought of his hands touching her such a familiar way.
Why was she thinking such things?! Was she insane! This deranged Saiyan had almost killed her and she was thinking about that? She whimpered and drew further back in disgust. Initially, she had wanted to jump up and strangle the tiny Saiyan bastard; how dare he hurt her! But now, she knew that he was much, much stronger than she was. She knew that he would not hesitate to kill her.
"I see that you're awake."
His rough, quiet voice startled her. She peeked out from beneath the covers, offering only a view of her shining blue eyes. He looked--amused? She huffed indignantly; so he thinks that hurting innocent women is amusing?
"You fucking bastard!" She cried out; one of the many phrases she knew in her home planet's language. Her mother had always told her foul language was bad for the soul, but at the moment, her mother wasn't with her.
His eyes widened in surprise, registering her curse at him. This only furthered his amusement and he began to chuckle--insanely. She flashed a look of curiosity and fear before a cry fell from her lips as the safe, heavy covers were pulled away from her grasp.
Bulma tried to sit up, but was only pushed back down by his forceful hand. She lay back as he climbed on top of her, pressing his full weight down onto her trembling body. For the first time, she felt true fear towards his intent. What was going to--?
She heard him softly whisper into her ear, talking to her as if he was calming her. Perhaps--perhaps he was apologizing... She couldn't be certain. What would she do if he was? She was already deathly afraid of him, the episode in the forest had shown his true rage but... He didn't sound angry or upset at present.
To her, it seemed as if he was rambling. The thought almost made her laugh--almost. In truth, she felt sorry for him; he must have had a difficult past to possess so much rage... Maybe, just maybe she could help him. She didn't know why she felt the need to; it was just an impulse, a desire of hers. To help this tragic, lonely looking Saiyan.
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He was in bed with her.
Bulma could sense his heat, feel him moving. With great effort, she forced her eyes open and found that the sun had set behind the horizon, leaving her enveloped in the darkness of their room.
"It's about time," the familiar rough voice shattered the peaceful mirage she had created in her mind.
She felt sick.
She couldn't tell him... How would she tell him even if she could? It was impossible. He would kill her and the baby. Or worse; he would just kill the baby himself and would leave her with its warm blood trickling down the insides of her thighs.
She would receive no comfort from him, no assurance of love. Only the words; it was meant to happen, it can't be allowed. She swallowed a sob. She didn't love him--how could she? But she knew, felt it in her heart that she was something to him. But she wasn't enough to be killed over, she supposed.
"How long have you been here?" She asked, frowning at her fearful tone. If he was surprised by her demeanor, he didn't show it. She turned on her side to face him, unconsciously wrapping her arm around her lower stomach for protection.
"Long enough," was his dismissive reply, "Care to tell me what happened?"
Her breathing grew shallow and she offered a watery smile, "I fainted, silly me, right?"
"Why did you faint?" He probed, fixing her with a suspicious glare. Even in the dark surroundings, she could feel its intensity.
"I haven't been eating properly," she lied, "And it's been so hot this year that I guess I just... Couldn't take it," the last words were mumbled guiltily as she looked away; her eyes falling onto every object in the room besides him.
She felt his fingers clasp her jaw, forcing her to look at him. She gazed up into his angry eyes and felt the room spin uncontrollably.
"You are a fool," he murmured.
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"You are a fool," he murmured softly into her ear. He knew that she couldn't understand him, and so he continued to speak in the soft yet dangerously lilted voice he had been gifted with. The power of seduction held a great appeal to him. She had just sworn at him; he could deduce that from the tone of her voice. Stupid woman.
Vegeta was going to make her pay for trying to escape from him. He didn't take well to being made a fool of. Nappa was already feeling the brunt of his anger and this beautiful looking little creature was about to have the same experience. After he had rendered her unconscious, the shock slowly subsided and as his strength returned, so did his anger.
By nightfall, when she still hadn't awoken, he had been seething. Feeling most of his strength returned, he had flown them back to the Capital and ordered her speedy recovery from the surprised medical technicians at the palace. He wanted to heal her before he showed her the true extent of his anger. He had held back the previous time, but he wasn't going to let the same mistake occur twice. He would make her suffer; after all, she had been illegally living in the forest, unbeknownst to the court officials and King. Her punishment was inevitable. He was only helping, he reasoned.
Vegeta gently stroked the formerly bruised area of her cheek. He didn't allow his anger to surface, but continued to lull her into a false security as he spoke, "I'm going to fuck you all night long my little Khron, I'm going to claim you, and then when I'm satisfied I've humiliated you enough, I'm going to kill you and show no mercy," he whispered slowly, raising his eyes to her awed blue orbs.
He smirked as he pressed his body down upon hers. He wouldn't lie. She was extremely beautiful--for an alien; especially if she didn't have a tail. He was going to enjoy himself as much as he could, he thought cruelly.
The malice he felt was locked deep within his emotions. As a child, he had always been erratic and foul-tempered. It only worsened as he grew and the violent fits he threw as a child became louder and deadlier. It was only when his father had sent him away to train in the mountains of Vejiita-sei in his early teens, that he had learnt to reign in his temper. Even so, when he held a grudge with someone, he would only be satisfied until he exacted his revenge.
This little act was no exception. He was going to make the little Khron beg for him. And he felt no guilt for it.
Without warning, he threaded his hand upwards through the robe covering her body. He rubbed her thigh suggestively and heard her cry out in protest, squirming against his ministrations. He silenced her with his lips, working his tongue into her mouth and slowly... Slowly he felt her body relax and grow limp in his arms. He manoeuvred himself to lay between her legs and he felt them open readily. He almost grinned at her eagerness.
As their lips moved together in a silent dance, he felt the malice and anger slowly melt away from the recesses of his black heart. All coherent thought fled from his mind as he focused on his vengeful purpose without the aid of determination, but with the aid of need.
In the back of his mind, he couldn't believe that he needed her--his body needed her, needed this. It was absurd and yet he knew he was falling... Falling into something both would regret; not just her. It had been too long since he had bedded a woman. It was the only accountable reason for the sudden change in his intent.
He tried to pull away, tried to stop himself. But it was too late as her hands came to rest upon his shoulders, drawing him closer.
She had accepted him?
He was certain that she would refuse, after all he had hurt her. Why--why was she accepting him? Was she mad?!
He groaned quietly as her legs wound themselves around his waist. This was her first time, he was going to have to be gentle. She was so weak, he would probably crush her if he wasn't careful. The thought irritated him. Why should he consider her well-being? It was a preposterous idea.
But that is exactly what he did; he slid inside her with the gentlest of motions, allowing her fragile body to adjust with every inch. It was a torturous pleasure for him. In the clouded mist of his mind, he was distinctly aware of her jagged fingernails embedding themselves into his flesh; he could barely hear her heavy breathing and her quiet moans that aroused him to the point pain.
Gods, what was this little witch doing to him?!
They moved together slowly at first, finding their rhythm with practised ease after the first few clumsy movements of their hips. She was lithe and he was lean, a perfect combination. His climax built steadily, pushing him slowly over a dangerous precipice.
He knew that there would be no return from it.
He had fallen too far.
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"I only came to see that you weren't dying," he suddenly voiced with mixed sarcasm and concern. He was so awful at hiding his real emotions sometimes. Just like her... Especially if they were angry or upset, those feelings almost always came tumbling out from their mouths without thought or regard.
Bulma looked at him in confusion, "I'm ok, you came unnecessarily, I'm sorry."
His thumb brushed across her bottom lip before he pulled his hand away, "Nothing is unnecessary," he remarked, standing quickly from her side, "I have to go back to the Capital, make sure that you are rested and fed well."
Before she could reply, he had already left.
Her shoulders sagged in defeat. Even through his concern, she knew that if he found out she was pregnant, he would kill her, or the baby. She had to leave, and it had to be tomorrow. She couldn't put it off until the next year arrived because her stomach would be far too noticeable and obvious.
Tomorrow. She would find a way off the planet, without fail; tomorrow.
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AN: This website is annoying me with its format changes! Ok, this chapter was difficult to get through and edit. I have some news for my readers, a couple of reasons as to why I disappeared for a while and why I started writing another story (FB not DBZ). I'm pregnant myself, so my hormones are flying all over the place and this chapter makes me want to cry. I apologize for my lack of enthusiam with this story in recent months, but hopefully it will change. Thanks go out to a special friend who was the first person to know, you've been a rock for me even though we haven't been keeping in touch for a long time and I'm so lucky to have you as a friend; you know who you are! Thanks to everyone who reads and/or reviews, I will see you all soon with the next chapter!
Oh and Ariyana, are you by any chance a mind reader? ::hugs::
Khron---Blue Lady in Saiy-go (my version of the Saiyan language).
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Chapter Five.
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It was the nausea. Gods, the damn nausea!
She couldn't take it anymore--it was driving her to break the last straw of sanity she possessed. Ever since Vegeta had returned to the Capital, she had been feeling sick repeatedly. She had merely dismissed the illness, blaming it on the change of climate.
Summer was fast approaching, which meant that a number of the population who were not born on the planet, experienced violent heat flashes and on going nausea throughout the summer months due to the lack of water and fresh vegetation offered in their diets.
Bulma groaned, "Fucking weather," she was distinctly aware of the comforting hand rubbing her back as she kneeled over the marble wash basin. She stood shakily, batting the ruby hand away rudely.
"Mistress?"
She winced as Nena's concerned voice lanced through her mind.
"I'm fine," the hoarse reply fell softly from her pale, quivering lips.
Nena's brow furrowed in suspicion, "Here," she said gently, offering the blue haired woman a glass of sumaki milk, "This will help to dispel the acid in your throat," she added, watching as the beautiful woman downed the glass in one gulp.
"May I be so bold as to suggest something, Mistress?"
Bulma frowned, brushing away her sweaty cerulean locks from her forehead, "What is it?"
Nena cleared her throat, "I think that these heat flashes and spells of nausea you're experiencing isn't because of the climate changes. It may be because," she blushed, "Well--you might be with child..."
She blinked at the snow white eyes shifting uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze.
The full force of Nena's words hit her like a lightning bolt from a darkened, thunderous sky. The rumbling thunder of apprehension trembled in her veins. She had been aware that neither Nena or her mother had not yet experienced any hot flashes... But--But...
"No, you're wrong," a tremor of fear shook her body as she took a step backwards from the ruby-skinned woman.
Could she be?
"This can't be happening!" Bulma cried, shaking her head violently. "This... This cannot happen!" She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed... Prayed that Nena's hypothesis was untrue. Had she forgotten to take her contraceptive medicine? Yes... She must have. But--how could she have been so stupid! Her pale hand fluttered to her stomach, resting delicately upon the flat plane. Nena was wrong! She had to be...
"Go to the market and see if you can find a reliable test," she commanded urgently, "We will settle this matter pending on the result of this test."
Nena nodded and quickly turned to leave.
"If I am pregnant... He's going to kill me," Bulma whispered to herself as the painted world around her faded into black.
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The rustle of leaves from behind alerted her to another presence.
She stood up quickly on the boulder beneath the slowly trickling fall of water from the cliff above, whirling around with a practised speed and agility. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of the Saiyan Prince she had tended to the previous night.
But--how had he recovered so quickly?! She was certain that his wounds were deep and would take weeks to heal. But here he was, standing before her, looking completely healed! Perhaps she had been wrong to tend to him. He truly looked like a dangerous, wild beast at that moment...
They stared at one another for what seemed like a lifetime to her, but was merely seconds as he tore his eyes from her to drink in the appearance of the spectacular view that her naked body offered. She watched the corner of his lip quirk upwards to the heavens in amusement.
A furious blush stained the peaks of her high cheek bones as she frantically jumped off the boulder, into the murky depths of the slowly flowing azure river.
She swam steadily towards the bank where he now stood beside the rags of her clothing, waiting for her. A shiver erupted from the base of her spine as she felt his penetrating gaze locked on her hidden form beneath the rolling waves of water from the river.
As she reached the bank, she stopped before his feet and looked up fearlessly, wondering why the merchants and traders had been afraid of this young Prince. True, his demeanor held superiority and poise, and an air of deadly intent seemed to be resting upon his shoulders but... But he was awfully small for Saiyan standards. However, he was a small man with such a large presence!
Bulma suppressed a giggle but choked on her internal laughter as he quickly crouched down before her.
She jerked back warily at the sudden movement, eyeing his out stretched hand suspiciously.
"Well?" he growled.
The word did not make any sense to her. It had been spoken in his language, and so she frowned up at him in confusion before gently placing her own hand into his calloused one. Even though his hand was rough, it was warm and inviting and--it caused a multitude of ripples to accumulate at the base of her stomach. She gasped as he abruptly pulled her out in one fluid motion, pulling her quivering, wet body towards him.
A strangled cry burst forth from her mouth as she desperately tried to tug her hand back, to no avail. Gods, how strong was he?! She knew that the Saiyans were a warrior race but to possess such a great amount of strength could not lead to any good deeds...
"Let go!" She shouted, one of the few common words she knew how to say. She had been taught them when she'd served a Saiyan diplomat's family, who lived within close approximation of the King's palace. It was known that Saiyan men almost always took a fancy towards the servant girls they acquired. Some were even known to have died whilst being raped. It was what she feared the most; that it would happen to her.
"So, this mystical being before me actually speaks?" He smirked sadistically and he fingered the sharp contours of her cheek bone, chuckling as she withdrew from his ministrations in clear disgust.
She watched helplessly as he ran the pad of his thumb across the bridge of her nose, running it down from her forehead to the pointed tip, tapping it softly as one would do to a child.
It was as if--as if he were trying to imprint the lines and indentations of her face in his mind, committing them to memory... But why? There was a strange gleam in his obsidian eyes and it glittered like a shooting star falling from the heavens. She forced herself to remain still; it was useless to struggle, she was powerless against him.
Please let go of me, she thought fearfully.
Her plea was granted as he blinked and roughly pushed her away, awakening himself from the supposed trance he had been cast under. She frowned as he began to mumble, it was as if he was berating himself for something; but what? She certainly hadn't done anything. If anyone should be angry, it was her. Wasn't he the one who had ogled her naked body?
Her eyes shifted to the pile of animal skin clothes to her right. They were too far away, but now would be the perfect opportunity for her to escape. A raging debate formed in her mind as she looked at the Saiyan and back at her clothes. There was no time, she would have to come back for them later.
As he continued to berate himself, she rushed passed him and ran into the green depths of the forest, not once looking back. From behind her, she could her his surprised and angry shout as she zipped through the tall trees, desperately trying to seek out a hiding place. If he found her, he would kill her; of this, she was certain.
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"This is great," he muttered to himself, "Stuck with a foul-smelling, weakling of a whore that can't even understand what I'm saying!"
But his words were meaningless.
Foul-smelling? She smelled divine! Like the scented yellow and white lilies that grew on the vines of the jungle forest. So sweet and musky, fresh and cool like the flower, all rolled into one. She must use the lilly's sap as her soap, he concluded. Gods, he never knew how much he actually liked the smell; may his father forgive him for sounding like a weakling! It was enticing and alluring--what sane man on the planet could resist? He certainly couldn't.
As his primal instincts began to come into full force, he had to pull himself away from her wet, naked body for fear of claiming her then and there. And a whore? Who was he trying to fool? Her scent indicated that she had never... Never in her life--exactly how old was she? She barely looked over twenty-five. It was endearing to think that a beautiful creature like her hadn't been soiled by male hands. Perhaps he could--
He blinked. But--how had she managed to survive in the wilderness? It looked like she had been living in the area for years. He concluded that she must nto be as weak as he originally thought but... She certainly felt fragile when he held her in his arms. The weak structure of her delicate bones was enough to indicate her strength, but as his father always told him; looks can be deceiving.
He was roused from his thoughts as he felt a slight shift in the air around him. Before he could register what was occurring, he found himself watching her retreating back disappearing into the dark depths of the forest. For a moment, he watched her swaying cerulean locks dance back and forth against the wind, before she vanished completely into the thick foliage.
Vegeta snarled loudly.
That bitch! After his benevolence in releasing her, she repays him by running away?!
Without a second thought towards the gaping wound in his side, he took off after her. After all, his honor was at stake; once again he had let his guard drop and he would be damned if he was going to be beaten twice in one week; especially by an alien woman! His pride and honor would be diminished if he didn't punish her.
Vegeta caught up with the pathetically slow creature in a matter of seconds. In his boiling blind rage, he tackled her to the ground, disregarding her frailty as he pinned her naked body down beneath him onto the green mossy grass. She cried out in pain, but her cry reached deaf ears. "You think you can outsmart me!" He screamed, snarling as he straddled her struggling body, "Do you know who I am, bitch? DO YOU KNOW?! I am the Prince of all Saiyans, strongest in the universe! I'll have your fucking head for this, disobedient wench!"
He raised his hand to smash a thundering smack against her cheek, baring his teeth as he did so. At the last moment, instinct told him to hold back his strength as his palm connected with the bone of her cheek.
In the next moment, horror coiled around his chest as the sound of a loud snap and crack reached his ears. His heavy breathing slowed to a gentle rasp as the seconds slowly ticked by. She wasn't moving, not a sound came from her mouth.
Vegeta stared in dumb shock at the unconscious, limp woman beneath him. She looked like a broken toy as she lay under his heavy body, as if she had been discarded by an angry child. He crouched backwards onto the balls of his feet, watching her as the forest around him suddenly grew quiet. The chirping of insects faded into the thick atmosphere of silence; his only reaction was to watch her... She looked--dead. Perhaps he had been too rough?
But... But he held back! He--he had only used a fraction of his strength! How in God's name was it possible for her to be hurt so badly by him? A trickle of guilt entered his mind unknowingly. He brushed it away as he looked around at the dense forest. Looking back at the broken woman, he shook his head and reached out gingerly, using his index finger to turn her head so that he could inspect the damage he had caused upon her left cheek.
He winced internally; at least she was breathing.
A bluish, round bruise was already forming in the aftermath of his attack. It looked angry... The product of his violence.
He cursed to himself. Now what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't fly back to the Capital for at least another day due to his own wound, especially if he had to carry her with him! Standing up slowly, he reached down and pulled her into his arms, cradling her body against his chest as he made his way towards the sound of the river. He would have to retrieve her clothes and take her back to the temple, it was the only thing he could think of. If not, it would have been better to kill her off there and then, but he wanted... Needed answers from this blue-haired creature.
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Bulma reached out with a trembling hand as she took a small brown, cubed box from Nena's outstretched palm. She peeled off the lid and slowly scowled with determination as she pulled out a strip of gritty, pale yellow strip of what looked like paper.
Her fear-filled eyes glanced at her devoted servant before she gently placed the small, thin strip onto the tip of her tongue. It tasted tangy, but sugary at the same time. It wasn't unpleasant nor was it uncomfortable, but the gritty texture made her tongue itch.
She closed her eyes as she felt her body shake with anticipation. The minutes had gone by achingly slowly after she had awoken from her blackout, as Nena went to buy the test for her at the market. Now that the time had come for her take the test, she didn't want to know the result. A feeling of misery shrouded itself around her shoulders, weighing her down as she tapped her foot impatiently against the stone-tiled floor.
"Mistress, I think two minutes have passed."
Bulma almost wanted to open her eyes and glare at the servant for rushing her along. She pulled the strip from her mouth and held it between her index finger and thumb; her limbs were now quivering and she couldn't force herself to open her eyes. They were jammed shut, her body refused to listen to her mind!
"What color is it?" She whispered hoarsely, swallowing to obtain more moisture in her dry throat.
"It's black," Nena whispered in response.
"Black..." Bulma murmured to herself. What did the label on the box say? Blue meant that the test was negative, brown showed uncertainty but black... Black meant her death; both hers and her unborn child's. "Oh Gods," she crumpled to the floor, refusing to open her eyes. If she did, she would have to face reality... She would have to face him. And she wasn't sure if she could. Could she sit there and tell him? No, she was a coward, she wanted to live! She didn't want to die, didn't want her child to die.
She could feel herself being lifted by two pairs of gentle hands; Nena and her mother.
It was at that moment she realized she didn't know Nena's mother's name. Her eyes fluttered open, locking with the older woman's, "What's your name?" She asked numbly, ignoring the concerned gazes of her servants.
"My name is Zarai, Mistress," the old woman replied softly. Her cool hand felt wonderful against her hot forehead, as she brushed away the few strands of cerulean hair that fell over her eyes.
Then, the world around her disappeared for a second time.
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Bulma groaned, shifting her body only to find that her muscles had gone stiff. How--? She brushed the ground beneath her with her knuckles, marvelling at the softness she felt. Since when had grass become so smooth and soft at the same time? She quickly sat up, blinking as the rush of blood to her head clouded her vision. Shaking her head, she suspiciously analyzed her surroundings.
She was... In a room!
A rather elaborate room, if she remembered from her past experience as a servant. It was dark but there was a dimly lit lamp on the oak table at the far side of the room that offered her enough light to observe everything. Where in Gods name had she--? Fallen, shattered memories began to rise up and join together once more. Things were becoming clearer with every shard that was put back into place.
It was him.
He did this to her! She raised her hand and touched her fingers to her left cheek. She felt nothing; no pain, no fracture. Nothing was broken or felt bruised--she was perfectly fine. So then had everything just been a dream? She was sure that he was going to kill her when she saw the murderous intent in his eyes as he pushed her to the ground. But here she was, alive and without a scratch on her. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
A quick movement of a dark shadow flew across the room to her side. She gasped as the shadow was replaced by the figure of the man who had almost killed her. He looked at her with cold, unsmiling eyes. She shook fearfully and drew back, pulling the thick covers around her as she did so. She noticed that she was now fully clothed in a gown of some sorts; had he--? She blushed at the thought of his hands touching her such a familiar way.
Why was she thinking such things?! Was she insane! This deranged Saiyan had almost killed her and she was thinking about that? She whimpered and drew further back in disgust. Initially, she had wanted to jump up and strangle the tiny Saiyan bastard; how dare he hurt her! But now, she knew that he was much, much stronger than she was. She knew that he would not hesitate to kill her.
"I see that you're awake."
His rough, quiet voice startled her. She peeked out from beneath the covers, offering only a view of her shining blue eyes. He looked--amused? She huffed indignantly; so he thinks that hurting innocent women is amusing?
"You fucking bastard!" She cried out; one of the many phrases she knew in her home planet's language. Her mother had always told her foul language was bad for the soul, but at the moment, her mother wasn't with her.
His eyes widened in surprise, registering her curse at him. This only furthered his amusement and he began to chuckle--insanely. She flashed a look of curiosity and fear before a cry fell from her lips as the safe, heavy covers were pulled away from her grasp.
Bulma tried to sit up, but was only pushed back down by his forceful hand. She lay back as he climbed on top of her, pressing his full weight down onto her trembling body. For the first time, she felt true fear towards his intent. What was going to--?
She heard him softly whisper into her ear, talking to her as if he was calming her. Perhaps--perhaps he was apologizing... She couldn't be certain. What would she do if he was? She was already deathly afraid of him, the episode in the forest had shown his true rage but... He didn't sound angry or upset at present.
To her, it seemed as if he was rambling. The thought almost made her laugh--almost. In truth, she felt sorry for him; he must have had a difficult past to possess so much rage... Maybe, just maybe she could help him. She didn't know why she felt the need to; it was just an impulse, a desire of hers. To help this tragic, lonely looking Saiyan.
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He was in bed with her.
Bulma could sense his heat, feel him moving. With great effort, she forced her eyes open and found that the sun had set behind the horizon, leaving her enveloped in the darkness of their room.
"It's about time," the familiar rough voice shattered the peaceful mirage she had created in her mind.
She felt sick.
She couldn't tell him... How would she tell him even if she could? It was impossible. He would kill her and the baby. Or worse; he would just kill the baby himself and would leave her with its warm blood trickling down the insides of her thighs.
She would receive no comfort from him, no assurance of love. Only the words; it was meant to happen, it can't be allowed. She swallowed a sob. She didn't love him--how could she? But she knew, felt it in her heart that she was something to him. But she wasn't enough to be killed over, she supposed.
"How long have you been here?" She asked, frowning at her fearful tone. If he was surprised by her demeanor, he didn't show it. She turned on her side to face him, unconsciously wrapping her arm around her lower stomach for protection.
"Long enough," was his dismissive reply, "Care to tell me what happened?"
Her breathing grew shallow and she offered a watery smile, "I fainted, silly me, right?"
"Why did you faint?" He probed, fixing her with a suspicious glare. Even in the dark surroundings, she could feel its intensity.
"I haven't been eating properly," she lied, "And it's been so hot this year that I guess I just... Couldn't take it," the last words were mumbled guiltily as she looked away; her eyes falling onto every object in the room besides him.
She felt his fingers clasp her jaw, forcing her to look at him. She gazed up into his angry eyes and felt the room spin uncontrollably.
"You are a fool," he murmured.
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"You are a fool," he murmured softly into her ear. He knew that she couldn't understand him, and so he continued to speak in the soft yet dangerously lilted voice he had been gifted with. The power of seduction held a great appeal to him. She had just sworn at him; he could deduce that from the tone of her voice. Stupid woman.
Vegeta was going to make her pay for trying to escape from him. He didn't take well to being made a fool of. Nappa was already feeling the brunt of his anger and this beautiful looking little creature was about to have the same experience. After he had rendered her unconscious, the shock slowly subsided and as his strength returned, so did his anger.
By nightfall, when she still hadn't awoken, he had been seething. Feeling most of his strength returned, he had flown them back to the Capital and ordered her speedy recovery from the surprised medical technicians at the palace. He wanted to heal her before he showed her the true extent of his anger. He had held back the previous time, but he wasn't going to let the same mistake occur twice. He would make her suffer; after all, she had been illegally living in the forest, unbeknownst to the court officials and King. Her punishment was inevitable. He was only helping, he reasoned.
Vegeta gently stroked the formerly bruised area of her cheek. He didn't allow his anger to surface, but continued to lull her into a false security as he spoke, "I'm going to fuck you all night long my little Khron, I'm going to claim you, and then when I'm satisfied I've humiliated you enough, I'm going to kill you and show no mercy," he whispered slowly, raising his eyes to her awed blue orbs.
He smirked as he pressed his body down upon hers. He wouldn't lie. She was extremely beautiful--for an alien; especially if she didn't have a tail. He was going to enjoy himself as much as he could, he thought cruelly.
The malice he felt was locked deep within his emotions. As a child, he had always been erratic and foul-tempered. It only worsened as he grew and the violent fits he threw as a child became louder and deadlier. It was only when his father had sent him away to train in the mountains of Vejiita-sei in his early teens, that he had learnt to reign in his temper. Even so, when he held a grudge with someone, he would only be satisfied until he exacted his revenge.
This little act was no exception. He was going to make the little Khron beg for him. And he felt no guilt for it.
Without warning, he threaded his hand upwards through the robe covering her body. He rubbed her thigh suggestively and heard her cry out in protest, squirming against his ministrations. He silenced her with his lips, working his tongue into her mouth and slowly... Slowly he felt her body relax and grow limp in his arms. He manoeuvred himself to lay between her legs and he felt them open readily. He almost grinned at her eagerness.
As their lips moved together in a silent dance, he felt the malice and anger slowly melt away from the recesses of his black heart. All coherent thought fled from his mind as he focused on his vengeful purpose without the aid of determination, but with the aid of need.
In the back of his mind, he couldn't believe that he needed her--his body needed her, needed this. It was absurd and yet he knew he was falling... Falling into something both would regret; not just her. It had been too long since he had bedded a woman. It was the only accountable reason for the sudden change in his intent.
He tried to pull away, tried to stop himself. But it was too late as her hands came to rest upon his shoulders, drawing him closer.
She had accepted him?
He was certain that she would refuse, after all he had hurt her. Why--why was she accepting him? Was she mad?!
He groaned quietly as her legs wound themselves around his waist. This was her first time, he was going to have to be gentle. She was so weak, he would probably crush her if he wasn't careful. The thought irritated him. Why should he consider her well-being? It was a preposterous idea.
But that is exactly what he did; he slid inside her with the gentlest of motions, allowing her fragile body to adjust with every inch. It was a torturous pleasure for him. In the clouded mist of his mind, he was distinctly aware of her jagged fingernails embedding themselves into his flesh; he could barely hear her heavy breathing and her quiet moans that aroused him to the point pain.
Gods, what was this little witch doing to him?!
They moved together slowly at first, finding their rhythm with practised ease after the first few clumsy movements of their hips. She was lithe and he was lean, a perfect combination. His climax built steadily, pushing him slowly over a dangerous precipice.
He knew that there would be no return from it.
He had fallen too far.
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"I only came to see that you weren't dying," he suddenly voiced with mixed sarcasm and concern. He was so awful at hiding his real emotions sometimes. Just like her... Especially if they were angry or upset, those feelings almost always came tumbling out from their mouths without thought or regard.
Bulma looked at him in confusion, "I'm ok, you came unnecessarily, I'm sorry."
His thumb brushed across her bottom lip before he pulled his hand away, "Nothing is unnecessary," he remarked, standing quickly from her side, "I have to go back to the Capital, make sure that you are rested and fed well."
Before she could reply, he had already left.
Her shoulders sagged in defeat. Even through his concern, she knew that if he found out she was pregnant, he would kill her, or the baby. She had to leave, and it had to be tomorrow. She couldn't put it off until the next year arrived because her stomach would be far too noticeable and obvious.
Tomorrow. She would find a way off the planet, without fail; tomorrow.
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AN: This website is annoying me with its format changes! Ok, this chapter was difficult to get through and edit. I have some news for my readers, a couple of reasons as to why I disappeared for a while and why I started writing another story (FB not DBZ). I'm pregnant myself, so my hormones are flying all over the place and this chapter makes me want to cry. I apologize for my lack of enthusiam with this story in recent months, but hopefully it will change. Thanks go out to a special friend who was the first person to know, you've been a rock for me even though we haven't been keeping in touch for a long time and I'm so lucky to have you as a friend; you know who you are! Thanks to everyone who reads and/or reviews, I will see you all soon with the next chapter!
Oh and Ariyana, are you by any chance a mind reader? ::hugs::