Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ VeNdEtTa Of ThE hEaRt ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Vendetta of the Heart...

The piercing rays of light danced upon her gleaming face, their translucent hands caressing her flesh like a lover's hand. A bright smile graced her soft, full-rosy lips, as she gave a sigh of anticipation of what the day would hold. Her joyful expression was reflected in her azure orbs, along with the blue silken strands that gently rest on her shoulders, giving great contrast to the lavish white gown she wore. The seams of the extravagant dress were traced with delicate lace, giving a look of dignified beauty to her curvaceous body. The pale flesh that the gown hid beneath its velvet length squirmed with slight anxiety.

She figured it was simply `cold feet', as so many referred to it as. Glancing at the reflection gazing back at her, she fidgeted once more. Though uncertainty was not uncommon, she didn't appreciate the feeling. Not now. In fact, especially not now, this was her wedding day, the day that is said to be `the best day of your life'. The very day she would be eternally bound to her soul mate, or so she thought. Doubt as to whom she was marrying was nonexistent, for not one negative thought dwindled in her mind about `him'.

No, she was just being immature.

Though what could be truthfully expected of a young girl at the age of 19? Sure, she was now considered an adult under the law, but what was her true capacity of emotional understanding? As was always said, `Age shall bring wisdom', but apparently whatever she harbored now, would have to do. Besides, age was not a major goal in her life. She would rather be a youth throughout her entire existence, whether or not she would be the same naive woman. That was just a consequence she was more than willing to accept. As a matter of fact, she would prefer such a life. The more experiences that she could live through, as a young lady, the better, she thought...Hence, her young marital age.

"When does the ceremony begin," she questioned softly.

"You've got 10 minutes left as a free woman, Bulma, so live it up," a woman, seemingly within the same age range as the bride, responded in a rough chuckle. "While you can," she teased, strutting towards an oak vanity, placed in the left corner of the room.

"You're one to speak," Bulma retorted. "You're already married for Kami's sake, Chi."

"Did you have to remind me," Chi Chi scolded, turning around to face Bulma, the lengthy strands of her ebony hair swaying softly with her movements.

"I'm going to tell Goku you said that!"

"Bulma," Chi Chi snapped indignantly, "you know I was only fooling."

"Hai," Bulma agreed with a ghost of a smile.

"Stop that, Bulma," Chi Chi ordered. "You can't start laughing when you're walking down the aisle, everyone will assume your mocking the groom!"

"Then perhaps, I am," Bulma responded playfully.

"Then I possibly agree with you."

"Chi!"

"Hey, you're the one that suggested it."

"Sarcasm, Chi Chi," Bulma taunted, "you should learn to recognize it."

"Well, if we're giving off tips at the moment," Chi Chi mocked, "then I believe it would be useful to learn how to read time."

"Huh?"

"You're 5 minutes late to your own wedding," Chi Chi giggled, as she gathered the bottom of her maiden's dress, slowly sauntering outside of the dressing room.

"I'm going to kill you, Chi! Why didn't you tell me," Bulma demanded as she hastily ambled outside, trying desperately to amend for the lost time.

The chapel was in view, directly outside of the convenient quarters for the bride to prepare in. The exterior of the chapel was simple, but a respectful building none-the-less. Nothing was really fancy about the interior either, but it would suffice. Bulma's gown was a classic wedding number, the lacy sleeves and smooth waist. Which all fit accordingly with the strained budget that had been given for this beautiful occasion. The thought that little money could be spared for the day did not hinder Bulma's immeasurable joy, as she stepped into the confines of the moderately sized chapel.

Classical marital ceremony music sounded within Bulma's ears as she slowly made her way in the line towards the main room, where her wedding would take place. As suspected, Goku stood patiently at the door, awaiting for Bulma. For he was the one who would give her away. With the absence of Bulma's father, Goku was happy to oblige his long-time friend from high school, and lead her down the aisle to her soon-to-be husband. Smiling as she approached, he immediately offered his arm to her, which she graciously accepted.

Upon entrance, Bulma could feel the dozens of eyes gazing at her, watching her every move. Anxiety suddenly swelled in her being, as she continued down the walkway. She could feel herself begin to falter in her steps, causing her regal composure to begin to dwindle as her knees gave away beneath her weight. Luckily, Goku had sensed her mishap long before, supporting her weight with his body as they continued. Offering him a smile in gratitude, Bulma regained her footing as she neared her anxious groom. She could see a appreciative glance sent her way, filling her with a warm feeling of bliss. A light blush tainted her pale cheeks, causing her turn her face away nervously.

She searched the crowd thoroughly, studying the happy faces that greeted her. She could spot all her relatives and friends, new and old, gazing at her with envy. Smiling at them all, she turned her gaze to the opposite set of rows, which held all of her groom's guests. Despite not knowing a few, Bulma still offered them a pleasing smile as they entered her vision.

Unconsciously, Bulma retraced her eyes path, once again gazing at a man that was seated near the back of the chapel. The suit he wore, most likely, cost more than the ENTIRE ceremony. Obviously, he stood out, but there was something undeniably alluring about the creature she now studied intently. His facial features were sharp, yet subtle, creating the sensual face she was increasingly enjoying to stare at. His cheekbones were high, suiting the aristocratic nose he held raised in the air, along with a prominent widow's peek that dove low on his forehead. Every characteristic of his face was defined by his tawny flesh, giving great contrast to the sensual burgundy lips that curved into a devilish smirk. His every aspect was intriguing, especially his upswept ebony mane that resembled a flame engulfed by darkness. Yet, nothing was as capturing as the onyx orbs that held incomparable intensity, causing everything besides them to seem dull and boring. They resembled the dark expanse of the sky when night fell, only the fathomless depths she beheld represented more than petty darkness. Like treacherous lightening, they were lit with electrifying passion. Just as distant thunder echoed within their depths, silently calling to her- daring her to reach out.

And that's when it suddenly struck her. How could she peer into his eyes so deeply, if they did not scrutinize her as well? A crimson hue discolored her cheeks, as she attempted to appear casual. As if she wasn't blatantly staring at him all the while. Apparently, he noticed this as well, evidence enough with the remaining smirk that molded his lips. How very sensual could this man be? His entire aura radiated with a certain ambiguous demeanor, one that captured her azure pools with accuracy beyond her realm of thoughts. This is when Bulma started to notice his enchanting lips moving. It was quite obvious he was forming syllables and such, but what was he trying to tell her. Her mind started imagining extraordinarily romantic phrases, or perhaps fairytale promises to lead her away to his majestic kingdom. Such foolish thoughts, yet Bulma figured it suited the man, and his charming ways that succeeded to bind her in desire. She couldn't resist the simplistic action of winking at the man, though what had caused her to do such was beyond her.

Bulma was undoubtedly pleased as he returned the gesture, his thick black lashes teasing her with their subtle movements. She simply hated herself for having such a thought, but she was bound to wonder what he looked like unclothed. At the time it seemed like such a tasty thought, although she couldn't help but giggle at the possible notion he was over-weight. Dismissing her scandalous thoughts, Bulma once again tried to decipher his words.

After several attempts, she had found he was saying `turn', but she couldn't quite catch on to his second word. She frowned that he was brushing her off in such a manner! Taking a huff of agitated breath, Bulma turned her attention to the front of her, and consequently found herself gazing into her groom's questionable eyes. Finally, she understood what the man was instructing her to do. All along, she had been making a fool of herself! Not only making a mockery of her groom, but also succeeding in embarrassing herself, as staring at one of her groom's relatives was not customary for the bride. Sending an apologetic glance to husband-to-be, she accepted his hand, while releasing her hold of Goku. Stepping up with the groom, they elegantly approached the priest, where he patiently stood.

The ceremony proceeded accordingly, as Bulma repeated her everlasting vows. She was deeply disturbed at the moment, for thinking of another man while declaring vows of eternal binding to her groom, was odd to say the least. Every word she spoke was as it should be, filled with joy and love, but her eyes held a distant daze. She most certainly wasn't concentrating on anything around her, simply lost in thoughts, as she tried to analysis what had just transpired. To be blunt, she was overwhelmed. What had possessed her to stare as she did? Honestly she would never know, but it wasn't in her character to accept the fact. Dutifully she kissed her husband, as the vows were complete, and they smiled within the other's embrace.

Finally returning from her constant thoughts, Bulma gazed deeply into her lover's eyes, searching for the love she knew she held for him. Surely enough, she found it there, as she grinned at him approvingly. He grasped her dainty wrist, pulling her into him once more, as he locked his lips with hers.

All cheered within the room, happily watching the couple commence in a loving show of affection. Immediately afterward, all occupants of the chapel flocked outside to where dancing would ensue. As well as food, but that was far from anyone's mind as music of light tone started to play. Bulma walked out, the large patio area with marvelous gardens surrounding greeted her curious eyes. With light steps, she ambled her way through the many people, proudly smiling at her new status. She was married! Proof of so, rest on her delicate finger in all its marvel. The diamonds were shaped beautifully, just as the untainted gold embraced her ring finger tightly.

"It's beautiful!" a lady beside Bulma squealed.

"Hai, it's an absolute masterpiece," another chirped.

"It saddens me to see it wasted on a little whore like you," a voice spoke in the same upbeat tone.

At hearing this, Bulma turned on her heel. Her sapphire eyes pierced with anger. Though she came to face, none other, than her best friend, Chi Chi.

"I couldn't resist, B-Chan," Chi Chi giggled as she flashed her friend a silly grin.

Bulma smacked Chi Chi playfully, "Neither could I."

Everyone started in an uproar of laughter, lightening the mood. Bulma hugged her friend tenderly, before waltzing away towards her husband.

"Bulma-babe, are you enjoying yourself," he questioned.

"Don't call me that, Yamcha," Bulma hissed.

"Why," he asked, slightly offended by her harsh tone.

"It- it's just so juvenile!"

"Right, right," he agreed before walking away.

"Yamcha," Bulma snapped snidely.

"I'm off to get us a slice of cake, Bulma-dear."

Bulma sneered at the new nickname, but decided to remain where she was, as Yamcha started to bring her a piece of cake.

"Here you are, Bulma-dear," he mocked, as he handed the cake to Bulma.

Smiling gratefully, she accepted the offering and took hold of the plate. Grant, it was a small piece, so it vanished quickly, leaving Bulma to lick the frosting from her lips. She did so teasingly, letting her tongue roll across her lips softly, as she lapped the icing from her cherry lips. Yamcha noticed the enticing display, but found himself in a fit of jealousy. He was not the only male observing the tempting invitation. Releasing a light snarl, he lifted what remained of his piece of cake, and promptly stopped her as he meshed it onto her face.

Everyone's attention was drawn to the scene, as Bulma let out a distressed wail. Her pitiful act was dropped like ice as rage began to burn in her eyes, igniting the uncanny temper she harbored within. Growling menacingly, she brushed the small chunk of cake that rest on her cheek. Some icing still remained smothered in small blotches from her left cheek, across her lips, and onto her chin, but she didn't bother to remove it.

"It's tradition," Yamcha declared hopefully, as he watched his wife shutter with rage.

"Traditions die hard," Bulma spat, lifting the palm of her hand as she prepared to strike him.

The blow never came, leaving her hand mere centimeters from his face. Instead of slapping him, she simply patted his cheek in what appeared to be in a friendly manner, while realistically, the force behind her touch was as vicious as she. But not one sound was made, compliments of the pre-applied frosting on her hand. She was more intelligent than many gave her credit for. After `patting' him about seven times, Bulma pushed up on the top of her toes, as she leaned towards him. Yamcha, as usually, started moving in closer to her as well, in thoughts of receiving a kiss.

Obviously, Bulma had something else in mind.

Before their lips, she turned her head to the side, avoiding his expectant mouth. A small chuckle could be heard behind them, but she didn't bother to turn. Casting her head to the side, she whispered in Yamcha's ear, a wicked little promise,

"And by the time I'm done with you," she whispered seductively. "So will you," she hissed, her tone changing drastically.

Any who had witnessed the exchange, would be lead to believe she was whispering promises of sweet torture on their honeymoon to come. With the innocent façade, and the suggestive smirk curving her full lips, it was a deceiving act, and a rather good one at that. Pulling away from him, she gazed at him thoughtfully, her sapphire orbs still ablaze with her roaring temper. Without giving him the opportunity to speak, she sashayed gracefully away. Her hip's movements tempting any man who dare to touch.

The sun was nearing its decent, the midnight hues drowning the late day, golden rays of light within their eternal wonder. Bulma made her way through the couples dancing, searching for friends to converse with. She bit her lower lip, as she found not one of her friends. For that matter, none of the young women that were present before were to be seen. It was unnerving, and Bulma was becoming agitated. Taking a huff of breath, she looked about attentively.

"Milady, much of the girls are socializing near the archway," a voice affirmed behind her, "in the garden to the left, that is."

"Thank-you," Bulma said gratefully as she began to walk where instructed, never bothering to face the person who had so graciously helped her.

As told, Bulma found a whole flock of her friends, as well as ladies from Yamcha's guest list, in a rather large crowd. They all seemed to be centered on one thing. Bulma, of course, resented the idea, for she was the one who should be receiving any and all the attention, was she not? She figured it was so, since this was her marital party after-all. Many of the women hadn't noticed her, as of yet, and remained babbling on underneath the simple wooden-oak arch. This irritated Bulma to an outrageous degree, making her hands fidget in barely suppressed anger. Waltzing up to Amelia, an old friend from her childhood, she began to demand what was so utterly entertaining that they had all gathered here.

"What's going on," Bulma inquired, attempting to hide her agitation at the matter.

"Oh, Bulma, we-," Amelia started before she abruptly stopped, turning her attention back to the growing crowd.

"Amelia!"

"Shh," Amelia scolded, never turning her gaze. "So, you've been in the business for 11 years?" she asked wistfully, directing her words to the center of the gathering.

Growling, Bulma pushed her way through the crowd, in hopes of finding the source of her growing irritation, and ripping it apart! She was fed up with the rivaling attention, this was her wedding and it was time to claim that. Once in the center, she found herself lost in onyx pools of eternal depth. Dumbfounded, she gazed at the man in a daze. It was the very same man she had so pensively been staring at earlier, the very same being who had haunted her thoughts while she spoke vows of eternal love. Needless to say, she was trapped in an awkward silence.

"Yes, though I have been within the vineyard since childhood," his voice timber and calm, spoke out, answering the previously asked question.

His eyes held her own, searching them intently, as if he could peer into the essence of her being. Bulma felt hypnotized within his gaze, as the ebony orbs penetrated the barriers that no other had ever attempted to conquer; never even known were existent. Little did she know, he felt the very same, simply dazed, as everything was cloudy and mysterious except for the endless expanse of sapphire gems that reflected him like clear waters. He was sure of many things about the woman before him, but so lost within the same thought. Assumptions as such were all that filled his head.

"Came to join us, I see," he stated, his voice as provocative as his unique eyes.

"No."

"Defiant," he chuckled, half to himself as he noted yet another of her characteristics.

So far, he had concluded one thought of her... vicious vixen.

"Cocky," she retorted, almost as if she were doing the same as him, trying to discover exactly what he was... friend or foe?

"Never," he mocked, "I'd rather leave it as prideful."

"Your opinion does not hinder my own," Bulma snapped.

"You speak as if to convince yourself, as well," he said, a devilish smirk curving his luscious lips.

"It's unwise to assume anything," Bulma snapped coyly, "about a woman."

"I wouldn't have noticed."

"Are you insulting me," Bulma gasped, astounded by the nerve of the man.

He didn't even know her, and yet he had the gull to disregard her! The sapphire fire, that once lay dormant, ignited once more as she stared at him incredibly.

"Humph," he grunted, "it is not in your best interest to tempt me to do so."

"Is that a challenge," she inquired, her thin eyebrows rising in amusement at the notion.

"This amuses you," he asked, his thick-black eyebrows rising as did hers.

`He can read my like an open book,' Bulma gasped inwardly.

"Perhaps," she hissed snidely.

"I assume you accept," he whispered huskily, as if she had just committed herself to some sinful deed of unimaginable pleasure.

She couldn't help but squirm at the thought.

"I had thought I warned you about assuming such things," she spoke in a sultry voice.

"I believe you did," he recalled. "Though I don't think I'm hasty in thinking, you're are secretly attracted to me," he whispered once more, his voice as sensual as the lips he spoke with.

"Then you presume too much," she responded, trying to hide the blush highlighting her face, but to no avail.

"Perhaps," he teased, fully aware of the growing color of her cheeks.

`Cocky bastard,' she seethed inwardly.

"You tempt fate, with your witty comments," Bulma stated, a light tease in her feminine voice.

"Oh? Is that so?"

"Quite."

"By all means, enlighten me," he spoke, his voice underlined with seductive incentive.

"You may provoke more attentions than you can handle," Bulma responded, her tone arrogant, but low enough that it only allowed his ears to understand what she spoke.

"Consequences quail to the granted pleasures," he challenged her words.

Silence ensued, as Bulma was simply dumfounded by his words.

"Possibly it is you that tempts such happenings," he broke the silence, amusement obvious in his timber voice.

"What makes you conclude so," she inquired mockingly, tiring of his games.

"It may have already been destined," he suggested softly, a cocky smirk curling his lips.

"Do not wander so far from reality," Bulma huffed.

"You speak of your bondage," he questioned smugly.

"No," she said flippantly, " just of a self-promise."

"What might that be?"

"Never to lower my standards to inferior levels, as well as inferior beings," she hissed.

"You are in luck, for if I had made such petty promises to myself, I would not be speaking to you now."

"Why you arrogant bastard," Bulma seethed, outraged by his confession.

"I only did as you asked," he taunted, chuckling softly.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I never requested to be insulted!"

"Aye, but you did say to remain within reality's boundaries."

"Yet, you're still far from it," she snapped.

"Do I displease you," he spoke in mock hurt.

"You can't even imagine," she barked vehemently.

"You speak to soon, for I can assure you I understand all to well," he retorted.

"You speak through empathy, not experience," she growled.

A light chuckle was her only reply, as he stepped closer to her, completely violating her personal space. Subconsciously, Bulma attempted to retreat from his approaching figure, but she failed miserably as her body was held captive within a possessive embrace. His strong arms were wound about her waist, his body mere centimeters away from her own. She was at a loss for actions, simply concentrating on the electrifying tingles his touch evoked. Her vision was hazy, her azure eyes conquered by the penetrating darkness that peered into her very essence. She hadn't even realized they were moving, nor did she take notice to the position she held. With her arms wrapped around his corded neck, they appeared to be coupling one another at the close proximity they held each other. The movements of her body were traitorous, seemingly not even of her own will, but she made no attempt to stop... no attempt to break the moment she had found herself in.

Music foreign to Bulma's ears played softly in the background, leading the pair rhythmically across the dance floor. She was entrapped by the elegant steps he led her in, letting her follow him with the same etiquette. It was a dance as foreign as the music that sounded within her ears, lulling her every pore to mold to its ways. She was still unaware of the growing audience that witnessed the enchanting display, her husband included. Nor was she aware that the man she clung to was just as bewitched as her. Everything was centered upon the other, willingly or unwillingly was an unknown characteristic of the situation. All that was apparent at the time was the undeniable chemistry that was present between the pair.

As Bulma started to regain herself minutely, she began to study the endless steps she made, as well as her partners. Trying to find some kind of bearing to her own movements, but was once again found ensnared by her own flaming desire. If one were to compare their movements to a dance that they were accustomed to, it could easily be linked to the tango. Aside from the flaring passion, and the majestic flow the dance possessed; it could quite easily pass as a form of the sensual dance. No words could convey the river of movements they made, both sensual and enchanting, and wisely no one attempted to do so. The onlookers grew, gradually becoming the entire populace of guests, even the priest. All eyes were fascinated by the pair. That is except for the husband of the very occupied woman that was presently within another man's embrace. It infuriated him to no end, yet he couldn't conjure enough courage to interfere either. Bulma was already angered with him, he didn't even want to imagine how she would react if he intervened. Growling, he sauntered towards the band, and quickly instructed them to stop playing, immediately. They did so begrudgingly, giving Yamcha the microphone in the process.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, food will be available shortly, so, please take your respectable seats," Yamcha said, trying to hide the bitter jealousy from his voice.

With the very first syllable spoken, Yamcha could feel icy-blue eyes of fury resting on him. He recoiled in shock, as he saw she not only did she remain in the man's arms, but was clinging only the more tightly. She glared at him, penetrating his hopeful gaze and shunning away any conflicting thoughts to be thankful he stopped the music, and breaking the trance she had sustained. The jealousy was evident in his composure, and it made her want to kiss the man she held on to in spite, if nothing else. Her anger made her grip onto him harder, letting the digits of her fingers bind in the clothes he wore.

"Don't be bitter," a voice comforted, "we may dance once more."

Bulma's gaze flickered to the owner of the voice, once again colliding with the ebony orbs that had dared her to take actions of desire, and passion. She blinked, but refused to look away from him. She told herself it was because it was a challenge not to, but something warned her that it was more. It was evident he was dangerous, if not because of his lecherous demeanor, his unyielding will. Could she resist such a power? A married woman was she, yet she was still unsure of what threat the man imposed. Whether it be to her marriage or to her will, she did not know. Though there was a light suspicion that her heart was the true target, and that the growing passion was the real culprit to the surreal desires that swelled within.

"Who are you," Bulma asked, even though she hadn't intended to. It was more a curious wonder that she had hoped to remain in her head.

"You may refer to me as many things, though only calling me Vegeta would be correct," he said, his voice the same timber tone she remembered seconds before. "That is besides nick names such as sexy, or others within the same branch," he finished as an after thought, a sensual smirk curving his lips once more.

"Vegeta," Bulma mumbled thoughtfully.

"Aye," Vegeta assured. "Vegeta Ouji."