Finding Venus

Chapter I

Of two evils, the less is always to be chosen.
~ Thomas à Kempis.

*****

Blackness envelopes her all sides, so thick and impenetrable, it leaves no room for light. She floats slowly through the liquid night, only an occasional burst of brilliant color interupting her silent void. Every once and awhile, a thin glimmer of silver breaks on the horizon, and her hopes rise. But just as soon as it appeared, it is gone again, leaving her in her perpetual night, the darkness cruel and menacing and surrounding her completely.

Just as she thinks she can take no more, a bright light explodes before her, engulfing her vision in total whiteness. She lands on something soft, and the light begins to die. As it begins to fade, she finds herself standing in a field, all lush and green and alive. The colors vibrate, and she feels like laughing aloud and dancing for joy. She walks through the grasses and wildflowers, enjoying the way they softly tickle her feet and lower legs. She feels the warm sun beating down on her face and shoulders, and she is just happy to be out of the dark.

But suddenly the sun shines a light too brightly, and she loses her balance, falling over something big and hard and cold. Picking herself up, she glances to the ground at the "something" and chokes back an anguished cry. A tightness in her chest threatens to tear her apart as she looks at the face of her friend, her confidant, her first true love, that once handsome and virile face twisted in agony and blue with death. Her mouth releases a strangled sob, and she tries to back away.

But everything seems to happen in slow motion, and she cannot seem to move as the body begins to rise and her lover's face transforms into his face, cruel, menacing eyes and spiky, coal-colored hair. She tries to run, but he grabs her, closing the gap between them with inhuman speed.

And she realizes he can do so because he is not human. He can do whatever he likes to her, and she is powerless to stop him. She makes a futile attempt to escape the embrace of his arms, but her soft, pliant body is no match for his hard, unyielding one. She soon grows tired of fighting, and he smirks in triumph before claiming her lips with his. His tongue ravages the inside of her mouth and seems to suck all her will power away. She lies limply in his arms, trying to quell the rising storm of pleasure his touch creates in her.

He doesn’t let up his assault, tearing down her defense with every kiss and caress, some gentle, others not. What frightens her most is that the latter often gives her more pleasure. At this realization, she once more begins to battle him, but still he lowers her to the ground, ignoring her renewed protests and struggles. His mouth upon hers quiets her screams until they are nothing more but soft whimpers, and when he breaks their kiss, he softly brushes her hair away from her eyes, looking at her adoringly and lovingly...

But suddenly everything changes. His gaze darkens until there is no tenderness or concern, just raging passion and manic obsession. His hands rip into her clothes, tossing them away as if they were made of nothing stronger than tissue. At the sight of her naked body, he hesitates, taking in his fill of what has haunted him for so long, and he smirks at the tears brimming in her eyes. He leans over her, tenderly kissing her forehead before he violently shoves himself to the hilt inside her tight sheath . Her screams of pain are smothered by a fierce kiss, and though she feels as if she is splitting in half, he immediately begins a pounding rhythm that soon washes away the pain, building unwanted ecstasy inside her mind and body. With each thrust, he claims a little more of her soul, and by the time they both reach full satisfaction, she too is as wild as he. He gives himself over to the last bit of pleasure with a hoarse cry of her name, and she shudders once more before she is done.

He buries his face in her silky, sea green hair, inhaling her scent, a mixture of sweat, vanilla, and a fragance that is simply just her. Looming over once more, his face a smirking mask of triumph, he expects to see lazy satiation in her eyes, but finds nothing. She has returned back into the untouchable goddess that has become his obsession. She simply lies still beneath him, expecting him to get off of her, shame at her weakness clouding her eyes.

This rejection angers him, and his obsession to possess her completely returns in full force. He finds that though she thoroughly sated him, he cannot get enough of her, will never be able to get enough of her, and his resentment towards her deepens. He swears by the gods he will not be the only one of them completely entranced. He knows the only way he can gain full possession of her is to do the one thing she does not want, and though he vowed never to do it without her permission, he does not care anymore. He can no longer stand the torment of her voice, her face, her body, haunting him all day, and especially all night.

So, he continues his slow manipulation of her flesh, knowing very soon she will once again beg him to touch her. It does not take too long. A kiss or two, a finger slipped into certain areas, a light nip at her breast, and she is writhing beneath him, begging for release. However, his desire to conquer her heart is at this moment stronger than his desire to conquer her body, and he continues his new assault with a trail of soft kisses along her white, expansive throat, only stopping once he has reached the soft juncture of her neck and shoulder. She knows what his is about to do, knows what harm it will cause, what it will do to her. But, like him, she does not care anymore. Her only thought is fulfillment and an end to the pain of being without him.

As the sting of his teeth biting her warm flesh causes her body to tighten momentarily, she can do nothing but cling to him desperately, feeling, after all the pain and loss, finally at peace and complete. And he laps gently at her rich life-blood, they both acknowledge the other’s surrender...

****

"AHHH!" Bulma screamed as she woke from her nightmare. She was at a loss for a few moments as to her whereabouts. She lay on a cold, metal floor, darkness once again blinding her. She fumbled through the blackness for a few minutes while the events of the past few days rolled through her again, and she remembered where she was.

She was on a spaceship, bound to an unknown planet, captive and slave to an arrogant monster who continually haunted her nightmares. Bulma then recalled her grief, grief for the life she had to give up and grief for the man who gave his life trying to protect her.

Had it only been three days ago when her world had fallen apart? She was supposed to have been celebrating a reunion with all her friends, but in the end had watched her first love die and been made the property of his killer, a man who called himself Vegeta, Prince of the Saiya-jins, a race never before heard of by Bulma or any of the other Z warriors, but surely, after the grief and turmoil they have caused, never to be forgotten.

Three of them had come, the Prince and two of his Royal Elite Guard. They claimed Goku was a member of their race, and they demanded to know why he had failed to purge the planet of all life. Goku, of course, had no idea what they had been talking about. The Saiya-jins seemed disgusted by him and declared him a traitor when he revealed he had a son by his human mate. They claimed him weak and impure, not fit to live.

Bulma knew the Saiya-jins could destroy them all. She could very easily sense the immense strength in all of them. It was apparent from their attitude that they wanted a fight, and as all the Z warriors were incredibly brave, none of them backed down from the aliens. Bulma had only wanted to get little Gohan out of the way, so she had dashed up behind Goku to take him to safety. But her movements caught the attention of the alien Prince, and he had pierced her with a gaze so intense that she thought he could see right into her very soul.

It was then that a change seemed to take place among the Saiya-jins, and they began heatedly arguing in their own language, frequently looking her way, making her very sure she was the topic of their discussion. The other two glared at her and seemed to curse her very existence, while the Prince observed her with a triumphant smirk on his proud lips. He seemed to say something the others found incredulous because sounds of doubt and disbelief immediately emanated from them. Bulma was sure this would make the Prince angry, but he only laughed in their faces.

Then he stepped away from them, gave her one final, enigmatic stare, and began to power up to levels she had never before witnessed, a great ball of light growing around him, his hair turning to a brightly colored flame. When he seemed done transforming, the light faded, but his hair remained yellow. His two companions were silent in fear and shock, but that soon gave way to shouts of triumph and victory. They once again looked towards her, not with as much anger and hatred but with more awe than anything else. She gulped nervously and quickly glanced back at the Prince. Bulma hadn't thought it possible, but he seemed even more arrogant and self-righteous than before.

It was then that all the Z warriors pressed in around her, each knowing that the coming battle would be their last. Bulma still didn't know what was going on, and as it had never been her habit to be quiet, she voiced her frustration loud and clear.

"Just what the hell is going on?"

The Prince seemed startled that she would speak, but answered her question. "I have just achieved my ultimate goal of becoming Super Saiya-jin, and now I'm going to destroy this planet and all life on it."

He said it so casually, so flippantly, that Bulma became enraged. "You look more like a super overgrown circus monkey! We've done nothing to you. Why can't you just leave us alone?"

"Dammit, woman, we are not overgrown monkeys! We will destroy this place because you are weak, and we are strong. It is our duty to rid the galaxy of weaklings like those on this planet to make room for the stronger, more superior races!"

"Over our dead bodies!" Bulma shouted back, knowing it wasn't the most witty of remarks but too scared to form anything more original.

The Prince smirked once again, his black gaze roving suggestively over her figure. Bulma shuddered as an unwillingly thrill of anticipation dashed along her spine. Vegeta noticed the woman's reaction, and his smirk grew crueler.

"Well, not your body anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"We'll kill everyone else, but you. You are coming with me," he declared boldly and made a move towards her.

It wasn't until then that she noticed that in her anger, she'd left the relative safety of her friends and had begun walking towards Vegeta. When he made to close the distance between them, she began backing away rapidly.

"Why?" was all she asked.

The Prince laughed again, the warm, scratchy timbre of his voice sending a jolt of heat through Bulma. "Because you are the Key," and as an afterthought, "And because you might make a good whore for one of my men."

She didn't know what Key he was talking about, but she assumed it had something to do with this transformation of his that was so new. Did I have anything to do with his incredible power jump?

She had no more time to analyze his answer, though she had a good comeback for the whore remark, but they had reached the point of flight or fight. The Z warriors had silently watched the exchange up until now, shocked into numbness by the power emanating from Vegeta, a bit baffled as to why Bulma was deliberately provoking him, and desperately trying to think of something to do. None of them had a good solution. They knew that if they fought, they would die, but as it seemed that death was their fate either way, they had very little choice. They would fight.

When the Prince did not back away from Bulma, Yamcha became enraged and was the first to engage in an all-out assault. Vegeta, however, saw the attack coming even before Yamcha moved, and as he was still Super Saiya-jin, all it took to bring the Earthling down was a small ki blast from his index finger.

Yamcha was lifted a hundred feet into the air and fell back to the ground with a bone-shattering crunch. Bulma rushed to his side immediately, horrified to see his body broken and bloodied and a fist-sized hole gaping in his chest. Tears flooded her eyes, and sobs shook her body as she watched the life slip from Yamcha's eyes.

He hadn't even been able to say good-bye.

She'd barely had time to close Yamcha's eyes before the bastard Prince had yanked her away. Bulma glared at him, pouring all her hatred and pain into one gaze. Vegeta seemed to hesitate momentarily from her, a look of regret, almost remorse, passing across his arrogant features, but it passed too quickly for Bulma to be sure. She dismissed the thought from her mind. This man was a monster incapable of feeling. She hated with all her heart.

Yet as he pulled her roughly against him, she couldn't help but notice a shudder of something other than fear pass between them. She knew that he had felt it, too. However, they were both too proud and too stubborn to give into such weakness.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes in disgust as he spoke softly to her, "You will come with me if you want to live."

With that, he threw her back to the ground and walked away, as if fully expecting her to meekly follow him in submission. When he didn't feel her fall in line behind him, he turned back to her.

"Woman, get your ass over here, or I'll kill your friends and everyone on this stinking planet!"

Bulma, though her heart was torn in two, stood her ground. "Why the fuck should I, you asshole? You're going to kill them anyway! Why should I make it any easier for you?"

She was breathing heavily by this time, frightened, overcome by grief, and longing only to sink down and fall asleep. However, she wasn't about to go quietly into the good night, not when her only love had just sacrificed himself for her.

She marched over to her friends, wanting them to know that she would stand by them until the end. All of them looked at her sadly, especially Goku. He had no words to express the guilt he felt at his inability to defeat Vegeta. He could possibly do some damage, but the Prince would be victor in the end.

Bulma seemed to know what he couldn't express with words, and she squeezed his hand in silent reassurance. If Goku, the Earth's best warrior, couldn't defeat them, then all was lost. She had only one choice left, really, and she wasn't sure if it would work.

But she had to try.

All she said was, "Live well."

With that, she walked away from the Z warriors and didn't stop until she was a foot away from Vegeta.

"Would it make life easier for you if I came willingly?"

The Prince scowled at the absurdity of her question. "Of course, stupid bitch. But it doesn't matter either way to me."

She bristled at his insult, but forced herself to let it slide. "Fine, but know this: if you kill my friends or anyone else on this planet, I will kill myself the very first chance I get."

The Prince hissed at her threat, wanting no more than to wring her neck, she assumed, from the angry glint in his eye. "How do you know that I want to take you alive that badly?"

"Because, even though I don’t know what this ‘Key’ that you called me is, I know it’s important, I know that I’m it, and I know that you need me, alive, to become this Super Saiya-jin thing. Without me, monkey boy, you are nothing."

Vegeta balled his fists, hatred for the truth of her words pouring over him like oil over water. He wanted to strike her down, put her in her place, but he didn’t know her threshold for pain...yet. Until then, he could do nothing that would place her in physical jeopardy because she was right. Though the truth was a bitter pill, he did need her. He nodded slighly for her to go on.

"However," she continued, glad that so far he seemed to be listening, "If you will give me your word as a Saiya-jin Prince that no harm will ever befall any inhabitants of this planet by your hand or any other Saiya-jin, I will go with you willingly and do as you bid."

Vegeta was stone-cold silent for several heartbeats, so Bulma couldn't gauge his immediate reaction. However, then his lips once again formed the arrogant smirk she was fast becoming accustomed to.

"Fine, woman, you have a deal, for now. As long as you obey me in all things, your people will be safe from me."

She raised her eyebrows, impatiently waiting for him to finish the rest of the promise.

He sighed in annoyance, but capitulated. "And safe from my people."

The look in his eyes said she had better not add anything else. Bulma swallowed nervously, but then she nodded. "Agreed."

Vegeta then powered down, and his hair returned to its normal black. He scooped Bulma into his arms and yelled to his companions that they were leaving.

As he started to fly away with Bulma, she suddenly shouted, "No!"

The Prince turned his gaze down to the woman, but she was focused on her friends. Several of them had already powered up in an effort to stop the Saiya-jins.

She shook her head at them, pleading, "Don't. Please, just trust me. Please?"

They seemed reluctant, but really didn't have any other choice.

The traitor Kakkarot shouted, "Bulma, I will find you!"

"Please, just let me go, Goku! Don't worry, I'll be back!"

She then gestured to the body of her fallen friend and said, "Wish him back!"

Vegeta saw the others nod, but Bulma knew there was no way he could know that she was referring to the Dragonballs. As he turned away once more to leave, she whispered, "I will, you know."

"Will what, woman?"

"Return here. I won't be your prisoner for very long."

Her comments caused a deep rumble in Vegeta's chest that turned into what sounded like genuine laughter. He honestly seemed amused by her bold statement, though it hadn't been any bolder than ones she'd made earlier. She swore that she would never understand this creature.

Once he'd finished laughing, Vegeta gazed down at Bulma with the same enigmatic expression he'd used just before he'd transformed. "No, little one, you will never return here."

His tone suggested she brook no further argument, and even though they were quite high in the air, Bulma felt strangely very safe in Vegeta's arms. She let her exhaustion and anguish pull her into sleep, and she must have really been out of it because she could have sworn she heard Vegeta say something else before the blackness engulfed her. But she knew there was no way Vegeta would have ever said what she thought she'd heard him say.

She truly could have sworn he'd said, "You are mine now."

*****

As Vegeta flew back to his ship, he studied the young woman asleep in his arms. This day had brought many new surprises and new emotions into his life, some he wasn't so sure he was ready to deal with. There were only three things he knew for sure. One was that he was going to defeat Frieza once and for all. The second was that he would never understand the beauty he carried in his arms. Finally, he also knew that he would never let her go; she was his. He wasn't sure how he knew it, or what he would do with her for that matter, but he knew it all the same.

It was a statement of fact he didn't mind voicing to her right now with her in his arms because he knew for sure that she was asleep.

* * * * *

Chapter II - Why Friends Don’t Let Friends Drink Dragonsblood

Other women cloy
The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies.
~Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra

*****

The vast emptiness of space stretched out before Vegeta, dark and silent and void. He stood on the bridge of his ship, monitoring its route back to Vegetasei, back to home. It was a planet of fire and air. Volcanoes and desert mountains made up most of its terrain, and the air almost always sizzled with a scorching, dry heat. The wind howled ferociously all day and night, kicking up red and orange dust clouds. It wasn't lush and green and fertile, not like that low class planet, Earth, that he had just left. That planet raised its people to be soft and weak and spoiled. Vegetasei crushed those who were not strong enough to endure its harsh environment.

In all ways, its people were like the planet itself. They were a cruel race, warriors, not farmers or technicians. Saiya-jins carved their lives out of blood, sometimes theirs, sometimes others, but also in blood. Nothing less would satisfy. Honor, pride, duty, all the values of his people, was tied to blood. No matter where a Saiya-jin went, he always had a thirst for blood. To smell, to feel, to taste its rich, red sharpness. Always, always that satisfied a Saiya-jin. His people longed for power: the power to crush, the power to conquer, the power to kill. Blood was how a Saiya-jin achieved this power.

Vegeta longed for this too, but there were times when he wondered if there was more to life than just blood and death. Gods, you fool, stop it. He was only going to follow a useless train of thought. What was needed now was concentration, clear and undivided attention on the matter at hand: defeating Frieza. It wasn't that he didn't want more from life than just mere killing and bloodshed; he did want a prosperous future. However, if he allowed himself to be distracted now, when he was on the brink of becoming capable of defeating his greatest enemy, he and his people would not have one.

He must concentrate on expanding his powers. He was the Super Saiyan-jin. Only he could save his people.

Yes, but only because of that woman you've got locked in the cell. There was that voice again, the echoes of all the times he had ever failed, had been made to feel as if he wasn't good enough. It was there to remind him of his imperfection, of the fact that no matter how much he achieved, there was always more. Always more planets to conquer, more people to kill, more power levels to attain. Even when he had first transformed into the Super Saiya-jin, he had felt more power lurking within him, barely able to restrain itself.

And the voice had been there to remind him of how much more he needed to accomplish.

Sometimes the voice motivated him to do better. When he was younger, though, it hindered him more than helped. It rang with all the criticisms he'd ever received from his father, his trainers, Frieza, until one day he'd snapped and discovered that if he was to survive, he could not give a damn about what anyone else thought.

From that moment onward, he controlled his own thoughts. Except for the unusual moments when the voice focused on one particular thought he wasn't ready to deal with. This time around, it was the woman.

Without her, he was nothing. He knew it, Nappa and Radditz knew it, and so would his father and his people once they landed on Vegetasei. Worst of all, she knew it, too, and that gave her power over him.

He loathed his dependence upon her and had already vowed to himself that she would be more dependent upon him. No matter what it took, he would never let her power over him be greater than his over hers. It was perhaps the galaxy's greatest irony that its strongest warrior was nothing without its weakest. Chiudran, his home planet's resident guru and spiritual leader, would appreciate its unifying balance and the seamless circle Nature had built within herself.

All Vegeta could do was rage about the unfairness of it.

The woman was going to be his downfall. Even if she hadn't been the Key, even if she hadn't possessed the ki that complimented and augmented his own considerable life force, she still would have been a distraction. It took all the self-control he possessed not to break down the door to her cell and claim her as his own right then and there. To take full possession of that smart-assed, pouty mouth and tame it to his own liking. To cause her to moan at his very touch, welcome him warmly and fully into her body---

Fuck!, he cursed to himself. He could not afford to let his thoughts runaway like that. Yes, the woman was beautiful and exotic, the most appealing woman he had ever laid eyes upon. But she was still a woman, and a weak one at that. He had more self-control than this. Frieza had taught him that.

Immediately Vegeta shut off that train of thought, too. He had been out from under Frieza's thumb for almost ten years, but the uncertain, volatile nature of his early childhood continued to haunt him. It's over and done. He cannot touch you. He is too afraid, Vegeta tried to reassure himself. He breathed deeply for several moments, banishing the old demons once again to the darker, deeper recesses of his memory. He would not fail this time in his attempt to kill the bastard. He would not---

Suddenly, a strangled cry echoed from the back of the ship, and Vegeta's thoughts were interrupted by the cause of that miracle. The woman had once again woken up from a nightmare. Though he hadn't spoken more than a handful of words to her since boarding the ship, Vegeta discovered that he had a mild telepathic connection to her. If she were in a state of heightened emotional distress, he could sense it. He figured the connection had developed because of her status as the Key, but some vague thoughts at the back of his mind whispered that it was more than that.

He mentally heard her cry out again, and though irritated by her weakness, Vegeta rose and journeyed to the back of his ship, waving a grumbling Nappa away and back to bed. This problem was his, not his guards', and since he never slept for more than one or two hours at night, the woman was not depriving him of sleep. Just sanity, Vegeta smirked ironically.

Punching in the code to unlock the door, he walked in and was surprised to find it in complete darkness. Doesn't the woman know to touch the light pad? Vegeta seemed to remember hearing something about Chikyuu being fairly well-advanced technologically for such a small, insignificant place. But if they hadn't developed understanding of simple electric lighting, how advanced could they be?

Reaching out to touch the light pad, a small box posted about shoulder-height on the wall to the immediate right of the door, the cell was instantaneously filled with light, so much so that the woman whimpered in pain and hid a face in her hands for a moment. Vegeta sighed, irritated by the prospect of playing nursemaid. He was Prince was gods' sakes! Why the hell was he taking care of this weak, blathering woman?!?

Because you want to, echoed the unbidden thought in his head.

Deciding that analyzing his thoughts right now wasn't a good idea, he studied the woman's condition. She was filthy, pale, incredibly thin, and huddled in the far corner. Her frail bodied trembled slightly and tearstains glistened on her cheeks.

Vegeta hissed in a sharp breath of air as he was once again struck dumb by her beauty. For the briefest of moments, he felt true pity for the girl. She was like a goddess, ethereal, winsome, tempting, even in her current pathetic state.

Suddenly she snapped her head up and looked him straight in the eye, her gaze a white-hot flash of fury. "What do you want?"

Her glare and sullen tone crushed any pity Vegeta felt for her.

"Nothing, woman. If just came to see if there was anything you needed."

"Of course I'm in need, you stupid ape! I haven't eaten in three days, I'm thirsty, I'm tired, cold, and in desperate need of a change of clothes and a bath! If you've got any of those to offer, I'll gratefully accept. If not, then leave me the fuck alone!"

Her statements were answered with a ki blast shot into the wall, right above her head. It wasn't strong enough to do anything more than dent the wall, but it impressed the hell of Bulma. She stared back at the Prince, wide-eyed with fear.

"Woman, don't ever call me ape or monkey. Got it?"

Bulma just nodded, her sea-green curls cascading over her back like a waterfall. Vegeta wondered desperately what it would be like to plunge his hands in all that rich silk, to bury his nose in her fresh, clean scent, to have that soft down trail across his torso as she kissed---

"Uh, excuse me? Hello?" the woman said, tearing him from his fantasy. Unable to hide his sudden embarrassment, his face quickly flushed red, and he wanted nothing more than to get away from her. He started for the door, completely forgetting everything except the desire to escape.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" her indignant voice followed him into the hall. "What about breakfast? Or at least a bath?"

The image of her bathing sprang instantly to his mind, further pushing him towards the edge. "Get it yourself!" he growled over his shoulder, walking away even faster.

At this point, Radditz was coming out of his room. Upon seeing his lord, the soldier readied himself for a standard granting, but the stormy expression on Vegeta's face made him flatten himself against the wall instead in a desperate attempt not to get in his way. The Prince rushed by the soldier, muttering under his breath about women, sea-green hair, and insanity and didn't stop until his had slammed himself into the training room.

Radditz peeled himself from the wall as the vigorous sounds of the Prince pushing himself to his limits and beyond began. The Royal Elite Guardsman was a seasoned warrior and had learned many years ago to suppress his emotions. That skill was valuable now, as he contemplated the reason, or rather the person, who caused his lord's ire. Radditz wanted to laugh out loud like a little boy.

Instead, he settled on a knowing smile as he made his way to the galley for food.

*****

"Get it yourself," Bulma mumbled under her breath, irritated by the violent mood swings of the Saiya-jin Prince. She would have liked to have been able to punch him or something. Anything that would take that stupid, annoying, arrogant smirk off his face and make him realize that he really wasn't better than anyone else.

Her desire to take Vegeta down a peg or two was interrupted by a low, long growl from her empty stomach, reminding her that she had several needs more important than the Prince to attend to. Bulma then focused her thoughts on all that she needed to do, short of actual escape. There was no doubt in her mind that she could get away from these short-tempered gorillas if she wanted to, but she knew Vegeta would come after her.

And the price of his rage would be too high. It already had been. Thoughts of Yamcha flooded through her again, making her feel even greater guilt at the erotic dreams she had been having about the Prince, his murderer. True, she and Yamcha hadn't had a perfect relationship, and there had been times when he'd cheated on her. But he'd never been cruel to her, or killed any of her friends. So why was it that this Prince of the Saiya-jins awakened feelings inside her that made her love for Yamcha look like a grade-school crush?

Bulma then shook her head, wanting to just stop thinking about everything. She needed to herself some credit. Not many people would have been able to make the sacrifices she had so far and hold it together. She was strong; she could handle anything, especially the arrogant, though sexy, monster who held her prisoner.

She chose to ignore the "sexy" comment about Vegeta, chocking it up to delirium brought on by exhaustion and hunger. Bolstered by her mental pep talk, she rose from the corner of her cell, grateful for the light and the open door. She peaked her head outside the cell, hesitant about what she should do now.

Oh, what the hell, girl? Just do it!, she scolded herself. The damned monkey had told her to take care of her needs herself. Secure in that knowledge, she crept out into the hallway so as not to disturb anyone. While she could put up a good display of bravado in her head, she didn't think she could stay together should one of the Saiya-jins decide to jump her.

Padding softly down the hallway, she soon found that it opened up into a large, circular room that contained several doors and another hallway. Though she had been hungry, her nerves were taut right now to eat. She was also beginning to notice a faint but foul odor slowly creeping around her and upon further inspection discovered it was her.

That decided it. Bath, new clothes first, food later. Gathering all her courage, she dashed across the lobby-like area and into the other hallway. Looking further down the darkened passageway, she saw two open doors, directly across from one another. One looked like a kitchen, and the other was obviously a bedroom. Grateful to know where the food was, Bulma then entered the bedroom, having noticed another door in it that might lead to a bathroom.

As she crossed the threshold, Bulma was not surprised by the Spartan quality of its decor. There was a large bed, a nightstand, and a chest of drawers. No knickknacks or bric-a-brac to give a hint as to whose room it was. She was surprised, however, to discover two doors in the room. The first she opened turned out to a closet, which contained nothing more than a few blue gis, similar to the one Vegeta always wore.

Anxious over the discovery that she was in his room, she decided the best course of action would be to leave. However, she did want to inspect what was behind door number two, and Bulma had never been one to ignore her curiosity.

Opening the other door confirmed her guess that it was a bathroom. However, the luxury found in this small room contrasted extremely with the barrenness of the bedroom. A vanity spanned one wall, with what looked like two fully functioning faucets and sinks. Mirrors paneled the walls on all sides. Walking into the room, her feet sank into a deep, blood red carpet. A separate shower and tub were across the room from the vanity, and she assumed that the door on the wall opposite her led to a commode area.

She also noticed a shallow linen closet, stock-piled with thick towels, a variety of soaps and shampoos, and several bottles of bubble bath. What the fuck? The mighty Prince takes bubble baths?!? she thought, surprised. An image rose unbidden in her mind of the fierce Vegeta sitting in the oversized, claw-footed bathtub, surrounded by a huge mountain of light, fluffy bubbles. She couldn't contain her laughter at the ludicrousness of this.

A sound coming from the hallway brought her out of her fit of hysteria. Creeping slowly back to the door of the bathroom, peering into the bedroom, hoping whoever was ever in the hall didn't see her. When she saw no one, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, a large hand clapped down upon her shoulder, lifting her from the ground. She was roughly hauled from the bathroom and thrown down upon the bed, not seeing the face of her attacker until she sat up groggily on the still-bouncing mattress. She expected it to be Vegeta, but her hazy vision focused on a man taller than he, with a coarse, shaggy mane of hair falling past his waist.

Radditz...she tried to remember. He was Goku's brother. The large warrior leaned over her, glaring. "What are doing in here, girlie?"

Bulma cringed at the thunder in his voice, and while it was raspy like Vegeta's, it was also louder and had more bluster. She knew she was really in trouble now and fumbled for a few moments for a coherent answer. "I...I was lo-looking for a place to change clothes and maybe take a bath."

Radditz lifted one bushy eyebrow in doubt. "And you thought you'd do this in the Prince's private bedchamber?"

"I didn't know it was his room!"

The other eyebrow rose.

"Alright, fine. I do know. But I didn't at first! This is totally not my fault! Look, I mean, I didn't try to cause any harm, I'm really sorry, let's just forget about this..."

As Bulma heard the obsequious words tumble from her mouth, something snapped inside her. Why was she apologizing to this overgrown monkey? She didn't owe him any explanations. If anything, it was them who owed her. They were the ones responsible for her current state of misery.

"You know what? Fuck the apology! I don't owe you assholes anything! He said to get whatever I needed for myself, and that's what I'm trying to do. If you've got a problem with that, Mr. Hairy-Ape-Monkey-Whatever-the-Fuck-You-Are, take it up with Satan in hell 'cause I'm outta here!"

Fueled by the rage she'd just vented, Bulma pulled herself off the bed and made her way past the stunned warrior. She tried to hurry, though, because any moment she expected him to grab her and punish her for her insolence.

However, she was not expecting the loud, raucous guffaw that exploded out of him.

She turned to see Radditz doubled over, slapping his knee, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. All her fight went out in that moment, and she sank dazed to the floor. The Saiya-jins were going to destroy her sanity.

Radditz stopped laughing a few moments later, though he was still amused by her spunk. For such a weakling, she definitely had spirit, a quality that would serve her well on Vegetasei if used in moderation. Looking at her small form sitting pathetically on the floor, a wave of protectiveness washed over him. He remembered another spirited girl, his daughter, Amalya. He estimated that she would have been about this woman's age had she not been killed at age ten by a sandtiger.

He decided then and there that he would be the woman's protector at court, with or without the Prince's permission. She would have difficulty adjusting to the harsh life of the Saiya-jins. Many would resent her alien heritage, or they would want to make the blue-haired beauty their own.

"Girl," he said, startling her out of her reverie, "What's your name?"

"Bulma."

"Well then, Bulma, you're dirty and look starved. Let's do something about that, shall we?"

She eyed the hulking man warily, but could see no guile or mockery in his face. Bulma found she had little choice but to trust him. Swallowing to calm her nerves, she simply nodded.

"Good. Follow me."

Turning smartly, he made his way further down the hallway, stopping in front of a door Bulma had missed in her earlier explorations. Radditz smoothly opened the door to reveal another room. He punched a small box on the wall just beside the door, and light filled the room. Bulma remembered vaguely seeing a similar device in her cell. Is that how Vegeta had activated the lights in there? If so, then the Saiya-jins were more technologically advanced than she'd given them credit for.

The new room then occupied her attention. It was a bedroom, and though considerably smaller than Vegeta's, it was also more luxurious. Thick, burgundy pile-carpet covered the floor, and the walls, including the ceiling, dripped with mirrors of every shape and size, making it possible for one to view oneself from every conceivable angle. The big showpiece of the room, however, was the bed. It was in the center of the room on a raised dais and was round in shape, covered by a black satiny coverlet and heaped high with pillows. A large canopy swathed in transparent black gauze hung over it.

The room screamed sex.

Wisely, she made no comment, but did look askance at Radditz. He had the grace to blush slightly and clear his throat before answering.

"Well, you see, this ship is the Prince's personal one. Whenever we travel somewhere, this is the one the Prince and one or two guards use. Sometimes on longer journeys, the Prince brings along some, uh, female, uh companions. And, and this is where they, uh, sleep. Yes, yes. This is, uh, where they sleep."

Bulma's face grew redder as Radditz rambled through his explanation. She raised her hand for him to stop, letting him know she understood. The embarrassed soldier sighed with relief. He gestured for her to enter the room.

"Well, then, you'll find the bathroom through that door. Everything you might need, including some clothes, should be in there. When you're done, just come to the galley, and you can eat."

Bulma murmured a faint word of thanks and didn't realize the warrior had left until she heard the door quietly slide shut. Now that she was alone again, she felt a huge wash of relief. She was grateful for Radditz' fatherly concern, but the events of the last few days were still too new, still too raw, for her to attempt to form any bonds with these strange creatures.

Snapping herself from her thoughts, she made a beeline for the bathroom. The bedroom carried too many whispers of forbidden pleasures for her to be completely comfortable in it. Unfortunately, however, the bathroom proved to be just as sensual and dark.

Both the vanity and the large, sunken tub were made of a black, marble-like material. Burgundy silk covered the walls, and she was relieved to discover a considerable lack of mirrors in the room, though she did find one hanging right above the tub. It was vaguely disturbing, but she pushed all erotic thoughts from her mind.

Looking into the linen closet, she found towels, shampoo, and soap, much like those in Vegeta's bathroom. However, she also found candles, incense, and a few other interesting devices that she just labeled miscellaneous bath toys for adults. These she left alone, taking only a fluffy towel and some citrusy-smelling soap. She learned that the faucets for the tub and the sink were similar to those on Chikyuu, only for hot and cold water you pressed buttons instead of turning knobs.

As she let the tub fill with steaming water, Bulma went in search of clothes. However, she found nothing but skimpy lingerie and erotic-looking costumes. She decided her only course of action would have to be to wash her current clothes, teal shorts and a white tank top, in the tub after her bath.

She stepped into the warm tub and regretted her lack of time to luxuriate. However, her hunger was growing, so she quickly scrubbed away the grime and dirt from her body and hair. Then she washed her clothes and hung them to dry.

Now her only problem was what to wear to go eat. A towel wrapped around her, she padded from the bathroom and into the bedroom, hoping perhaps to find clothes more appropriate than those in the bathroom drawers. There was no closet in the room, but Bulma did find a small nightstand with one drawer. However, it was filled with more lingerie, though things only in ivory. She found a satin robe that was long and deemed she had to make do with that.

As she was turning back towards the bathroom, robe in hand, Bulma couldn't help but notice her reflection in the many mirrors. Her pale blue-green hair and translucent skin stood out in shocking relief against the darkness of the room. She did look better than she had since being kidnapped and really didn’t know the next occasion she would be able to choose her clothers.

She decided to indulge herself a bit and returned to the drawer with all the ivory underwear, selecting a lacy thong and a push-up bra. She rationalized that she had to wear something under the robe, and as her things were wet, she had very little choice. Besides, it wasn't as if anyone was going to see her in them.

Quickly donning the ivory clothes, she reveled in their silky texture, and then towel dried her hair. She wished desperately for a blow dryer to help tame her wild and wavy locks, but had not found one. By this time, though, she was ready to damn her hair because she was so hungry.

She found Radditz seated at a table in the galley, peeling what looked like an orange, only it was blue. Upon hearing her enter, he gestured for her to take a seat next to him, only glancing at her as she rounded the table.

He dropped the fruit.

She looked like a goddess. Her blue hair flowed wildly down her back, and her skin glowed with a radiant inner light. The harsh light of the galley penetrated the thin material of her robe, letting him see clearly what lay underneath.

Bulma had frozen instantly, worried that she'd committed some sort of cardinal sin. "What's wrong?"

Coughing, he tried to regain his composure and asked, "Isn't there something more appropriate you could wear?"

Bulma looked down at her robe-clad figure, silently thanking the gods she'd had the sense not to wear any of the other stuff she'd found. If Radditz reacted badly to a robe that covered her from head to toe, how would he have reacted if she'd worn something skimpier? Then she remembered what little underwear she had on and couldn't suppress a grin. At least he can't see that!

"No, there isn't. This was the most decent thing I could find."

She began to move again towards the chair next to Radditz, but he shook his head, pointing to the chair across from him. Confused, Bulma did as he bid.

"Whatever," was all he said to the matter of her dress. No need telling her that Vegeta's favorite color was ivory and that it was what he always made his "female companions" wear. The Prince probably wouldn't be done training for another few hours anyway. By then, her other clothes would be dry. He wouldn’t even see her.

He finished peeling the fruit and handed it to Bulma. She sank her teeth into its fleshy sweetness and sighed contentment. Radditz grinned at her, but said nothing, only taking several more exotic-looking fruits from a bowl in the center of the table. He sat and peeled them, handing each to Bulma as she finished the last. It was a ritual he'd performed with his daughter every morning when he was home. At least, it had been before she'd died. He tried to push the thoughts away.

Bulma wanted to ask him why he was being so nice to her, but was afraid to for fear that he'd get angry and turn mean. Instead, she asked a simpler question. "Why don't you eat some fruit?"

"Saiya-jins don't eat fruit."

She waited for more to be added, but after several moments of silence decided that she would have to ask more general questions to get a better answer.

"So...what do Saiya-jins eat?"

"Meat."

Several moments of silence.

"What kind of meat?"

"Red."

More moments of silence.

"How do you like your meat cooked?"

"Raw."

"Oh."

The silence that followed was one Bulma was unwilling to break. She had become full by this time, and Radditz rose from his chair. He returned an instant later with a glass of some cool red liquid. She looked at it curiously, as it had a highly odd scent.

"What is it?"

"Dragonsblood."

"Uh, that's okay. I'll just stick with good, ol' water.

"It's alright. It's not really the blood from a dragon. If it were, it'd be thicker and green."

Bulma let the story on how he'd found that out slide.

"I've got some knowledge of Chikyuu, but the name for a drink similar to dragonsblood escapes me. What is that you drink to relax?"

A frown marred her pretty features for a moment.

Radditz explained further, "It's a brown-yellow color, comes in a bottle...

Understanding shone in Bulma's eyes as she yelled, "Beer!"

Radditz nodded recognition, though he could have sworn that the name of the drink he'd been thinking of was also the name of an actual person. However, that thought was lost when Bulma still refused the drink.

"I don't need anything."

"It will help calm your nerves."

"What's wrong with my nerves?"

"I don't know, but you seem awfully damned talkative."

Bulma's face just went blank. Then her mouth twisted into an ironic smirk. I guess Saiya-jins aren't very good at small talk, she mused. Realizing it wasn't something she could change, Bulma dropped the thought and returned her attention to glass before her. If she drank it, Radditz would be pleased, and if was the equivalent of beer, then one or two wouldn't hurt. Now, if it were Jack Daniels or Jim Beam, she be doing a strip tease after just one sip, but on beer, she'd be okay. She decided to just go with the flow and downed the dragonsblood in three swallows. It burned on its way down, but had a pretty good taste. She instantly wanted more.

Radditz shook his head at her request, already annoyed that she'd downed the potent drink so fast. "No, Bulma, three glasses of dragonsblood have been known to drive warriors twice your size out of their minds. You don't need anymore. Maybe later."

The look in Radditz' eyes told Bulma not to press for more dragonsblood now. Instead, she sat back in her chair and relaxed. The red liquid was helping her mellow out, and perhaps that's why the next question popped out of her mouth.

"Is the Prince married?"

Radditz' eyes bugged. He hadn't expected her to ask such a question and didn't really know how to answer. He decided that though it was an impertinent question, there was no harm in answering it.

"No."

"Hmm..." was all that Bulma replied.

Then she asked, "Why was I taken?"

Radditz yet again wasn't sure how to answer. She was the Key. Why would she have been left on Chikyuu? Before he could answer, though, she plied him with more questions.

"Am I to become one of the Prince's, uh, female companions? Am I his slave? What am I to him, other than this whole Key business? And what does Super Saiya-jin mean?"

The warrior truly felt pity for her confusion. He had honestly thought Vegeta had explained her importance but obviously he'd been mistaken. Radditz believed she deserved to know the truth and what was expected of her.

"You haven't been brought with us to be his Highness' 'female companion.' You do belong to him, but you are more valuable than a mere slave. With you by his side, he will be able to conquer his greatest enemies."

"But what does that have to do with being Super Saiya-jin?"

"Super Saiya-jin is the highest level of power we can attain, but it hasn't been done in over a thousand years. No warrior has ever met his Key, the one being whose ki is the complete compliment to his. With his Key found and by his side, a warrior can reach levels of power originally thought to be impossible. Legend states that a warrior will know his Key the moment his ki brushes hers. Thus Vegeta immediately recognized you as his and transformed to the Super Saiya-jin."

"So what you're saying is that the Prince needs me?"

Radditz hesitated. To admit the need of a person, fully and completely, was to give him or her total power over you. He was not in a position to grant this power over the Prince to her. So he settled for the diplomat's way out.

"Well, in order to transform into the Super Saiya-jin, yes, Vegeta does need you."

By this time, the dragonsblood had worked its way through Bulma's bloodstream, and she was feeling very relaxed. Radditz' admission also gave her joy. Now maybe she wouldn't feel so helpless in front of the Prince. He needed her.

She decided it was time for another glass of dragonsblood.

However, Radditz once again shook his head no. Bulma was none too please by this response. The drink hadn't tasted all that strong earlier, and beside, she felt fine. She really, really wanted more.

Grinning slyly at the older alien, she said, "Okay, but I can't guarantee if my nerves will stay calm. And when they're not calm, I talk an awful lot. I can't guarantee how quiet I'll be..."

Radditz took on a deer-caught-in-headlights look at her threat and quickly rose to make her another glass. It would put her to sleep, and she'd be fine. Before he handed it to her, however, he said, "You must drink this one slowly. Promise?"

Bulma smoothed her features into a look of angelic innocence, nodded, and grabbed the glass. She downed it in one huge gulp and let out a hurrah of victory. "Here's to me having power over the Prince!"

She then promptly slumped over the table, out cold, and it was at this point that Vegeta stalked into the room. Radditz knew by the look on the Prince's face that he'd heard Bulma's last comment.

He cringed as he expected a verbal bashing about his weakness and irresponsibility, but Vegeta stopped cold as he saw Bulma stretched out on the table, her robe loosened, exposing pale skin. He turned a pained gaze to his trusted friend and guard.

"What the fuck is she doing wearing ivory?"

* * * * *

Chapter III - Plans and Regrets

*****

To be weak is miserable,
Doing or suffering.
~John Milton

*****

The sight of the sleeping and silent woman in satin ivory underwear was not what Vegeta had expected to see upon walking into the galley. But it was the sight that had met his eyes, and he'd had numerous options in how to initially react to the situation. He could have asked why there was so much noise going on, or made a comment about why Radditz wasn't training. He could have demanded to know why the soldier with the woman in the first place, or he could have even just simply inquired as to why there were so many fruit peelings on the table.

But, no. He hadn't chosen any of those reactions. Instead, his mind and his senses had focused on her and her state of dress. Or undress, if he continued listening to a particular part of his anatomy. To make matters worse, Radditz was there, able to bear witness to his lack of control, his weakness. But come to think about it, Why was Radditz there? As the shock of the woman started to fade, Vegeta quickly began to consider other anomalies in the situation.

"What is going on, Radditz?," he questioned softly.

Radditz nervously cleared this throat. He seemed to doing that a lot lately, he thought to himself. But he knew there was no escape from the shame he had let befall him. "She had a little too much dragonsblood, Oujisama."

"WHAT?!?," Vegeta snarled. He couldn't believe to stupidity of his usually highly-reliable guard. But how the situation came to be didn't matter right then. He needed to get the woman to bed, and though he wanted nothing more than that, these were not exactly the circumstances under which he wished it to happen.

The woman stirred slightly, murmuring unintelligibly and shifting her position. The robe opened wider, exposing more porcelain skin. Vegeta felt the heat of desire fly through his body once again. Dammit! When would he become accustomed to her body? Never, the voice whispered in his head. He sneered, his innate self-superiority responding with an immediate denial, more than willing to engage his subconscious in another internal debate over the woman.

However, the woman began to cough and convulse violently. Both Radditz and the Prince reached her side at the same moment, and Vegeta was once again forced to question what his companion had been doing with the woman. The look of concern and protectiveness on the older Saiya-jin's face was more than a mere human weakling should warrant in one such as he, even if she were the Key.

"Bulma?," Radditz asked softly, not noticing the Oujisama's close scrutiny. Vegeta had to stifle the jealous urge to singe Radditz' head to ash when he realized the warrior had learned the woman's name before him.

She heard Radditz' voice calling to her, and Bulma opened her eyes slowly, groggily, unable to focus. She was aware only of the fact that two very large men were in very close proximity to her, and she felt irritation that they should be so close to her as she was sleeping. One did smell rather nice, though, like sweat and salt and, well, man. Then she knew no more as blackness once again consumed her.

Vegeta caught Bulma easily in his arms, once again marveling at her lightness, her fragility. He swept her into his arms and was rewarded for his services by her snuggling deeper into his embrace. Every time we meet, little one, I end up carrying you, he thought tenderly. But then he immediately scowled when he realized he was once again allowing himself to be drawn in by her power. He also noticed that Radditz watched his Prince with a wary eye, as if he did not trust him.

Irritated and angered, Vegeta barked his orders to the soldier. "Clean this place, and then warm up. We spar in an hour."

"It will be as you command," Radditz replied with a slight bow. He realized that any resistance or questions would only goad the young man further.

Vegeta then stalked out of the galley and strode across the hall to his own room. He hesitated, as if rethinking his course. But then he completely turned directions and headed towards the courtesan's den, even though he knew he might be making a huge mistake, but also driven by the fact that he no longer gave a damn.

He gently laid Bulma upon the bed, knowing it to be softer and easier to sleep in than the one in his room. His customary smirk graced his lips as he thought of all the conquests he had made in this room. Usually he took a woman (or several) after he'd won an important battle or defeated a particularly challenging enemy. Vegeta didn't make it a practice to fuck anything female and breathing, like some of his race did, but he by no means practiced celibacy. A woman was his reward to himself after doing well on the battlefield, and as there had been many battles well fought, so too had there been many women. All those women, some of them the most beautiful and highly-skilled in the galaxy, became nonexistent next to this blue-haired beauty from next to nowhere, who he very much suspected was a virgin.

He grinned at the thought, his chest puffing out with masculine pride, at the thought of being the first to initiate her into the pleasurable world of bed play. The thought that she'd had others before him caused a dark scowl to cross his face, black jealousy rolling in his stomach, but he dismissed it from his mind. Even if she wasn't pure, she would never know another man's touch save his own from now on. I haven't even tasted her lips, and yet she has me completely entranced.

It then hit him that he would never, never, let her go. She was in his blood just as sure as the harsh crags and mountains of Vegetasei. Just as much as the lust for battle sung through his veins. She had ruined him for others, just with her mere presence, and he vowed to himself no one else would ever touch her. He would kill her before he let that happen. But he truly never expected things between them to come to that. He was Prince of the Saiya-jins, heir to the throne and the most powerful of his kind. Soon, he would be the most powerful in all the galaxy. It was inconceivable that she should not welcome him with open arms.

The feelings of weakness, rage, helplessness, against the sweet torment that was this woman seemed to subside, at least for a while. He couldn't say that were not going to come back, but he knew the conflict they caused him were nothing compared to the battle he'd waged these last three days not to touch her. As Prince, he was not used to reigning in his desires. Why should he start now?

The thought of his considerable position gave him pause. As prince, he would never be allowed to take her as his mate. It was simply unheard of. A Saiya-jin warrior could take an alien concubine or sex slave to his bed all he wanted, but he could not poison the purity of his race's blood with that of a foreigner's. Children produced from such unions, while allowed to live, were often regarded as nothing more than, well, nothing. They could not raise among the ranks of warriors, they could not lay claim to any holdings or property of their Saiya-jin parent, and they could definitely not bear the heir to the throne of Vegetasei. Perhaps if Bulma were a strong warrior, with power comparable to his own, tradition could be changed for the sake of her status as Key. However, Vegeta hardly believed that would ever happen, and so at some point in time he would have to take an appropriate mate, if for breeding purposes only. He wasn't quite sure how Bulma would react to such an arrangement. Oh, well. It doesn't really matter.

It would not stop him from claiming her, this very night.

The knowledge that Bulma was his made the Prince swell with a sense of pride and victory. Though he knew she was a weakness, he didn't feel weak. In fact, thinking about possessing her made him feel stronger, more vibrant, more alive. Of course, he was also in the throws of a huge ego trip, for he had fully convinced himself that while she did have a certain measure of power over him, soon, very soon, he would tame that power and bend it to his will, as he had done with every other possession he'd owned. The challenge of molding her spirit to his liking was fast becoming just as much a turn on as the woman herself. Looking at the ivory-clad beauty lying supine in the bed, her pale coloring contrasting wonderfully with its dark coverings, Vegeta knew it wasn't a question of if, but when, he gained more power over her than she had of him and forced her complete and total capitulation to his will.

It was what he wanted most in the universe at this particular moment.

He was the Prince of the Saiya-jins.

He always got what he wanted.

With that final thought, he left the woman resting after he'd made sure her sleep was one of rest, not a fever brought on by the dragonsblood. Satisfied that she would be fine, he made his way to the training room, planning to work up a good appetite for the night's later activities.

*****

He had already pretty much developed a plan that would integrate Bulma into his life as smoothly as possible. As the Key, she would placed in a very precarious position. She would not, of course, be allowed her freedom. However, she would also be guarded against any who might do her harm. While Vegeta did not disagree with this, he would not be allowed to protect her. In fact, he'd probably rarely see her. The Super Saiya-jin and his Key together would make too easy a target for an assassination attempt. This separation was unacceptable to the Prince. Vegeta could barely stand being away from her right now, and she was only down the hall.

So, his plan was simple. No one would know Bulma's true identity until the need for the Super Saiya-jin became dire. The blue-haired woman was a special treasure picked up after a disappointing recon mission. If the plan didn't work, he'd come up with something else. The means to his end were not important, but the woman would be his. He would not risk losing her before he'd even had a chance with her. She would be a part of his life, and he would not let her go. Now that he could admit that without self-recrimination, he felt lighter, more unburdened than he had felt since first meeting her. His pride did still resent her power over him. However, it was counterbalanced by his determination to control that power. If he couldn't, he would kill both of them trying.

Approaching the training room, Vegeta knew it was time to see if his plan was going to work. Fooling the Court would be no problem, as long as he could make Nappa and Radditz vow to never breath a word about Bulma's identity as Key without his permission. Vegeta was not worried about his old sensei; Nappa would give his Ouji-sama anything, even his head big, meaty head on a silver platter, if that was what Vegeta required.

Radditz, however, was a different story. The older warrior had served Vegeta well in the ten years he'd been a member of the Prince's Royal Guard. But the way Radditz had been looking at the girl, no matter that the look had been more fatherly than lustful, had planted seeds in Vegeta's head that he must watch the third-class-soldier-turned-Elite-Royal-Guard more closely, at least for the next few months. The request he would make of Radditz would be one step in the journey of deciding if his warrior's loyalty was waning.

He was jostled from his thoughts as the wall beside him suddenly caved outward. Vegeta grinned. Whatever the state of Radditz' loyalties, he could always be counted upon for a good fight. Forgetting momentarily the dangerous deception he was about to embark upon, Vegeta entered the training room and felt the singing heat of battle embrace him. He was home.

*****

She was dreaming again. She knew this because it was the same dream she'd been having for three straight days, only this time she seemed to be watching the actions instead of actually experiencing them. Kinda of like an out of body experience...

She saw herself walking in the field, tripping over the body, realizing it was her dead lover. She saw herself try to run, only to be caught by that body as it transformed into him. Bulma wanted to scream at herself to run harder, to not give in, that the tender look he was giving her at the moment was just a lie, a ruse, to try and manipulate her into submission. Any minute he would turn angry and mocking and cruel. She tried screaming all of this to her dream-self, felt her throat turn raw with the sheer violence of her screams, but she heard only silence.

Then the moment came. His once-tender lips transformed into his arrogant smirk, his eyes glazed over with mania, his embrace tautened with possessive jealousy. Bulma wept aloud for her dream-self, for the humiliation, the cruelty, the pain, she was about to suffer underneath this monster.

But then something strange happened.

Just as suddenly as the demon had appeared, it vanished, leaving only the man and the woman joining in a fevered, but loving, embrace, as if starved for one another. No pain, anger, jealousy, or sadness clouded their passion. Only they existed, and their love.

He began caressing her tenderly, and she did the same to him. They explored one another's body with an almost shy reverence, tumbling and laughing in the wildly-blowing grasses with carefree abandon.

Suddenly Bulma felt herself once again in the dream. She was being caressed, kissed, stroked into heavenly oblivion, and she knew instinctively that it was right and good and pure.

And she allowed herself to give way to the pleasure, to embrace it, no, him, fully, lovingly, for eternity...

*****

Vegeta left the sparring session and entered his 'playroom', as he liked to call it, feeling fully invigorated. Both his guardsmen, though not as strong as he, were incredibly powerful and always gave their Prince their best. Of course, Vegeta could do no less than they, and despite his not having transformed into the Super Saiya-jin, both warriors would be spending the night in the regen tanks.

He was also very satisfied that his plan was going to work. Both Nappa and Radditz had agreed without comment to his demand, and he hadn't even had to offer an explanation as to why. Nappa, of course, questioned nothing the Ouji-sama did or said. His absolute loyalty had never, would never, be in doubt. Not like Radditz. But the he had surprised the Prince when he had nodded his agreement unhesitatingly right along with Nappa. Vegeta had, however, seen a spark of suspicion in Radditz' gaze. But as long as his men's actions were loyal, Vegeta didn't give a fuck about what they thought. At least not tonight...he thought as he leered at the woman in his bed.

She was still asleep as Vegeta padded quickly across the room to the bed, discarding clothing, gloves, and boots along the way. He slowed his approach as he neared the foot of the bed, drinking in the sight of her. She was a goddess reincarnated, he decided, sent to ensnare him with her beauty. Though Vegeta was not usually poetic in his description of women, this one did something to him that no other had before. He desired her above all else in this world, not just physically. He also longed to master her spirit. He wanted her to be his in all ways possible. He ached to possess her.

He just wish he had a name for this new emotion.

Unable to resist temptation any longer, he crawled onto the bed, stretching out beside her. She lay on her back, though her robe had somehow been removed and was now pinned beneath her. By the disarray of the coverlet and pillows, Vegeta could only assume that she'd been having more nightmares. This thought caused his brow to frown in displeasure as he ran a few silky strands of her blue hair through his fingers. He was unsettled by the thought of her in distress.

But then a soft moan escaped her lips, and his thoughts once more turned to claiming her. I will help her to have no more cause for nightmares, he smirked arrogantly as he ran his finger across her torso, easily unhooking the front clasp of her bra and releasing her breasts. He marveled at their exquisite perfection as his hand lightly grazed the undersides of those succulent globes and trailed down to the satiny flesh of her thighs. At the slightest sensation of his flesh upon hers, she moaned again.

Vegeta's control began to slip, and raising himself above her, he captured her mouth with his, gently nipping her full lower lip with his teeth. He kissed her softly, but then harder as she opened her mouth and pulled him to her. Their tongues mated frantically as Vegeta continued running his hands up and down long, lithe form, ripping away her panties as if they were tissue.

It was only when he broke the kiss that he realized she was still in the netherealm of unconsciousness. Perhaps the dragonsblood was too much for her, he thought with a wicked grin. He knew exactly how to waken her.

Nudging her thighs apart with his knee, he positioned himself at her entrance, lightly teasing her folds to increase her excitement. She gasped and arched against him violently, pressing her breasts into his chest. Vegeta then lost all control and thrust in one powerful motion into her tight, warm sheathe. As he felt her virginity yield, he kissed her once more, hard and fast, swallowing her high gasp of pain as she fully awakened. Pulling away from her lips, his black eyes meeting her tear-filled blue ones.

"No," she whispered slowly, as if in disbelief. "No! Please, gods, no!"

"Hush, little one," Vegeta murmured, nipping her delicate nose before burying his own in her hair. His breath warm and tickled her ear as he continued, "The pain will lessen in a moment."

She continued breathing shallowly, feeling the pain ebb, but not her panic. Her mind was too clouded, she couldn't tell if she was dreaming or not.

His voice echoed again in her again, "Shh, my darling, shh. Feel me, and know that you are mine."

But she began struggling against his iron embrace, yelling "No!" louder and more emphatically.

Vegeta raised himself, trying to regain his tight hold on her, but then he saw the hate in her eyes, hate behind the pain and confusion. Hate for him. His mind snapped in a wild rage, and he began moving again, roughly pinioning her arms above her with one wrist. His other hand traced her face, her throat as she writhed and thrashed beneath him, as he continued moving within her, wanting nothing more than to conquer her rebellion. Her body arched in both panic and ecstasy under him, and he began to taste victory over her...

But then one of her arms broke free...

And he was flying through the air, pain ripping through his chest, tearing him in half, as she screamed a final, resounding, "NO!"

He landed against the wall, smashing mirrors, hearing their twinkling, feeling tiny grains of metal and glass grazing into his skin as he crashed into the floor. Across the room, Bulma had raised to her knees, still in shock and confusion, eyes streaming an endless flow of tears, a faint, yellow glow illuminating her right hand.

Panting, she raised her other hand against him, as if to ward off another attack. "No," she whispered.

Then she collapsed.

Vegeta lay on the floor, broken glass all around him, stunned by the pain in his should, vaguely wondering how the woman had managed to blast him with a ki beam. He was more haunted, however, by the intensity of the rage and hatred he had seen burning in Bulma's beautiful aquamarine eyes.

By the gods, what have I done?

He'd killed more people on more planets than he could remember. Purging missions never bothered him. The suffering of innocents had no effect upon his soul. In fact, he had reveled in the blood and gore he could cause with just one blast from his hands.

The very same hands that had nearly broken, may still very well have broken, the most precious thing he had ever found.

Her eyes...such a beautiful blue...

He continued to sit, quiet, still, glass embedded in his back and legs, fire eating his chest, but all that pain forgotten as the image of her eyes burned in his mind.

* * * * *

Chapter IV - Resistance is Futile

*****

Who overcomes
By force, hath overcome but half his foe.
~John Milton

*****

Vegeta wasn't sure how many minutes ticked by as he remained on the floor, haunted by her eyes. So much pain and rage...It seemed like eternity, but it couldn't have been that long because the next thing he remembered was looking up to find Nappa and Radditz by his side, staring at him in wide-eyed stupor. He glanced over at the door, seeing a gaping hole instead, and it registered he hadn't even heard them blast into the room.

I must look like complete shit, he thought next. Saiya-jins were taught from birth not to ever show emotion except arrogance and anger, were trained to slide their faces into an icy mask of stone. This usually happened when their emotions were running their highest. Sometimes, however, events were too astonishing not to react blindly. What had occurred in this room surely qualified for such an event, if the look of blank amazement on both men's faces was any indication. I cannot continue to let them see me like this. I must not lose any more face than I already have.

However, he could feel the regret, the remorse, the desperate need to take back the last few minutes, rise again within him. It came quickly and violently, not allowing him time to take a defensive position. It ate like a sickness at his limbs, his stomach, his heart. The Prince of the Saiya-jins was supposed to have a heart of ice. This one girl had not only chipped at it, but was also melting it. It hadn't evaporated yet, not by a long shot, but definite pools of water were beginning to form at its base. He supposed the feeling ravaging his soul at the moment was guilt, but he'd never felt guilt before, had only heard about it. It was the same way with love; he knew neither emotion.

But with this one girl, he was beginning to expect that he would be feeling both relatively soon and in large quantities.

Then Nappa interrupted his solemn, self-damning reverie. Kneeling at Vegeta's side, he raged, "Who did this, my Prince?!"

Vegeta gestured for the burly man to rise, to move away from him. He didn't need both hulking monkeys crowding him at this point. She's already affecting my opinion of my own race, he though wryly, rising slowly to his feet. His naturally advanced healing powers, enhanced even for a Saiya-jin, were already putting him on the mend, and the pain in his shoulder was barely a dull ache. The glass embedded in his flesh twinkled to the ground in a cloud of shimmering dust, his skin being too tough and impervious for the miniscule shards to penetrate. He stood proud to his full height, already cursing himself for showing weakness before his men, not caring that he wore not a stitch of clothing. However, even injured and nude, he still commanded their full respect.

"In answer to your question, sensei," he said quietly, considering his words carefully, weighing their full import. "She is the one who did this."

All three heads immediately turned to the young woman sprawled on the bed, noticing her uncovered nudity. Shit! Vegeta was perfectly comfortable with his nudity, but definitely not hers in front of any other man.

"Turn your heads!" he snapped as he stalked to the bed. He reached for a sheet to cover her, once again losing his breath just looking at her. A quick ache tightened in his groin. But the price of my lust is too high, he thought, her blue, blue eyes flashing in his mind.

"She blasted me," he said finally, simply, without inflection. "That's how this happened."

"But how?" muttered Nappa. "She's a weakling Chikyuu-jin bitch! I should kill her for this outrage!"

In his anger, the big Saiya-jin began to rapidly power up, but Vegeta blurred before him, his hand around Nappa's throat before the man even had time draw another breath after this threat. The Prince's face was contorted into a twisted, animalistic snarl, his eyes burning with a fierce and primal rage. He held his old trainer in a death grip for over a minute before slowly releasing pressure, neither one of them breathing until this point.

Nappa staggered to his knees as Vegeta stepped back. "Never threaten what is mine unless you mean to challenge me," he whispered, his razor-sharp voice cutting violently into the silence.

Still panting, Nappa could only nod his understanding. Vegeta's attention then turned to Radditz. The other soldier had been quiet throughout the exchange, but he was also a man who weighed his words before speaking and his actions before attacking. It was one of the reasons why, even though conflict was beginning to build between them over the woman, Vegeta still respected the man's opinion.

"Nappa, leave us," he ordered. "Bring me a set of slave bracelets with my seal on them. Fix one with a ki-diffuser chip set to a maximum level of 5,000."

The man rose to his feet, no longer panting, but still red-faced, and left the room, eager to do his lord's bidding. Vegeta once again sought Radditz' gaze, noting with irritation the accusation in the man's dark brown eyes. Here's the beginning, Vegeta thought, regretting the rift dividing the two men. Radditz had somehow developed an attachment to the girl in the short time he'd known her, perhaps a bond as strong and immovable as Vegeta's. He felt the jealousy curl inside him once more, but he quickly pushed it down. Radditz only wanted what was best for Bulma, and Vegeta's way was the only one.

"It must be done," he said firmly.

"Must it, Ouji-sama?" Radditz shot back, his voice a low growl.

Vegeta's body stiffened at the affront of his soldier's doubt. He needed Radditz' cooperation, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to get it. "Yes," he hissed. "It must."

"Really?" came more disbelief. "Are you sure? Is this not just another way to deny her her freedom? Deny her what is hers by rights? She's the Key, not some common palace whore! She deserves to be treated better. But, knowing you as I do, my Prince, you must always have a new toy, preferably one with a little spirit, so that you can bend her, sometimes even break her, to your will!"

Vegeta tensed, his entire body humming with suppressed rage. "You dare to question me?"

Radditz, though he knew he treaded very dangerous ground, nodded. "In this instance, yes, I do." A momentary pause. Then somberly, "She is about the age Amalya would have been, had she not died. She has something of her looks, too. In the eyes. Both of them have...had...blue eyes."

The Prince listened to the words of his faithful vassal, and the truth hit home. Bulma had become Amalya to him, and as such, she was worth dying to protect. The Prince found himself facing regret yet again. Radditz did not have designs on the woman; he only wanted to protect her. Realizing this, Vegeta let go of some of his rage, but not his resolve. He would have his way in this matter.

He sighed. "Radditz, you have always served me well. But your judgment in this issue is clouded."

"And yours isn't...Ouji-sama? Since when did you start thinking with your dick?"

Vegeta's rage swelled again, and he almost lost control of his temper. The man was pushing his limits, more so than any other warrior ever had. However, before he beat the shit out of Radditz, he would get his agreement on this. "Dammit, man! I'm trying to preserve her life! You saw how Nappa reacted. You see the wounds on my chest. She did this! Her power level topped out at 50,000. That's more than most Saiya-jins achieve after a lifetime of intensive training!"

He realized he was shouting now. Radditz, however, seemed unfazed, his face a mask of stony doubt. He knew he had to change tactics. Though he usually didn't give a fuck about what others thought, in this matter he needed another person on side. Perhaps he was still trying to convince himself that he was right in what he was about to subject the woman to. He didn't know. All he knew was that with a significant ki, Bulma's life was in danger, and Vegeta would do anything to protect her, even if it caused her short-term pain.

"Can you feel it?" he inquired, his voice just above a whisper. "She is out there. Faint, but growing stronger as we speak."

Vegeta referred to her ki signature, of course, as Radditz knew. Usually weak sentient beings such as the Chikyuu-jin had such a low reading, that is was just easiest to block them from the peripherals of the mind. The ki was weak and would never grow, thus it was easy to disregard and block. If left unchecked, it would tease the mind, adding more layers of information to sift through, and that could prove to be eventually maddening. Radditz didn't think opening himself up to the woman's ki again would be useful, but he did it anyway. He unlocked the part of his psyche from which flowed his own ki and mentally skimmed the edges of the air.

That was when he felt it. A new ki! As the Prince had said, it was faint, but also growing rapidly. Too rapidly...His gaze swept to the woman's sleeping form, his mind still processing that his body said. How in Hell can a body at rest have a rising ki? It was unheard of. Even Vegeta's ki, the strongest Radditz had ever known, did not rise when he slept.

The prince heard Radditz' sharp hiss of disbelief. He met the stunned warrior's gaze steadily. "There is more of the legend of the Key and the Warrior that is true. My ki will augment hers, just like she does to me. Both of us rising to levels beyond any seen in the last thousand years."

"That means...two..."

"Yes," he said. "If her power is allowed to grow, she has the potential to become Super Saiya-jin, even though she is of alien blood."

Radditz shook his head, trying to process all this information. "But if she attains Super Saiya-jin, many warriors will not tolerate that..."

Vegeta immediately began nodding, relief washing over him that Radditz was thinking along similar patterns as he. "Yes, yes. Her life would be in danger the moment she stepped foot onto the planet. Even though she's the Key, Saiya-jin arrogance and superiority are too much a part of our society. Not too many would countenance a foreign woman holding so much power. They would kill her first chance they get."

"But she would be too powerful...even for them..."

"Not at first, and probably not for many months. She surged today to a level of power almost half of mine, but she could not sustain it. Her body could not handle the strain. She collapsed. If she does that every time she uses her ki, then she won't survive the first challenger. She will need a vast amount of training in order to attain Super Saiya-jin, for what use would all that power be if she could not control it."

"But does that still constitute the need to put her in chains and under the influence of a diffuser?" Radditz questioned silently.

"Yes. It is for her own protection. Both from those who would harm inside the walls of the palace and those without. Can you imagine what Frieza would do should be learn of her true identity? Every assassin worth his salt would be crawling all over Vegetasei, and I wouldn't be anywhere near her to protect her. They would keep us separated."

Radditz paused long and hard. He had come to think of Bulma as a daughter of sorts. Had even sworn to protect her at court. As Vegeta's slave, he now would be unable to do so. Another warrior never acknowledged or touched the property of another without the permission of her master. He knew the Prince would guard her jealously. But he wasn't sure if that would be any better for Bulma. He had a pretty good idea what had been going on the room before he and Nappa had heard the crash of his body into the glass, felt the incredible energy of a ki beam, even through their sleep in the regen tanks. He now needed to know how the Prince regarded the event.

"But why the sudden spurt? Energy like that only comes through moments of heightened distress," he tried to make sound as nonchalant as possible, but knew he'd failed when Vegeta pinned him in his black gaze.

But just as suddenly as the rage was there, it was gone. Vegeta, for the first time since Radditz had known him, looked uncomfortable, almost guilty even.

After a long pause, the Prince murmured, "I came to this bed intending to claim her. Her body said 'yes', but her mind screamed 'no.' Her fear and pain became too much, and her ki blasted its way free...into me."

Vegeta then seemed to trail off, as if caught in some other memory. Her eyes...dammit, why won't they leave me the fuck alone? But the thoughts of what transpired between him and the woman crept upon. It replayed in his mind over and over. Her moaning and writhing underneath him, him moving inside her, feeling as if he had conquered the world. Saw the flash of realization as she awakened from a to cold, stark reality, the horror of the truth flashing across her beautiful face. His rage when she rejected him, the dark, cold stab of jealousy, driving his need to fully control her, him losing that control, hurting her. Then her rage and pain, building so fast, sending him flying through the air. And her eyes, damning him with their sorrow...

Radditz knew by the change in Vegeta that his Prince had learned something of regret this night. He knew that no words would lessen Vegeta's guilt and pain, only he could do something about it. So, he decided to go along with whatever his lord wanted, at least for now.

"Oujisama?" he said. The next a little louder, "Ouji-sama?!"

Vegeta snapped by to reality, looking dazed for only a moment. "What?"

Radditz bowed his head. "I will help you in whatever you deem necessary."

"Thank you."

At that time, Nappa came back into the room, holding two bracelets, one in each hand, out and away from his body, as if they were contaminated.

"It took you long enough," Vegeta snapped. He snatched the bracelets from Nappa, weighing them in his hands, deciding they were not too heavy for Bulma's delicate wrists. The golden bracelets were fashioned in the shape of serpents, with the body circling around, the mouth and tail twining together to form a setting for the identifier stone. The stone showed which type of work a slave did. Green stones were for field slaves, brown stones for those who worked in the mine, white stones for household servants. In Bulma's case, she was to be a concubine, a pleasure slave, thus the stones in her bracelets were the deepest, darkest blood red. The serpent design of the jewelry marked her as Vegeta's.

"And you fixed one of these with a diffuser?" he asked Nappa.

The balding man nodding. "Yes, Ouji-sama. Set to 5,000."

Vegeta smirked, now back into his bad-ass Saiya-jin mode. Asking for Radditz' opinion was one thing; he actually was somewhat intelligent. Nappa was an imbecile, good in a fight, but bad for strategy. The Prince would be damned if he showed anymore weakness in front of Nappa. It would only confuse the poor man.

Walking over to the bed, he attached a bracelet to each of Bulma's slender wrists. He stroked the length of her arm for a moment, loving its velvety smoothness, before laying both arms gently back down on either side of her body.

"Attach!" he said. Bulma's wrists immediately snapped together. "Release!"

Her hands fell back apart. Vegeta made a grunt of satisfaction. The binding, voice-activated magnets in the bracelets seemed to function properly. All slave bracelets were outfitted in this manner. Any Saiya-jin voice could activate the binding or release modes of the bracelets, and such an element was helpful in controlling the large slave population on Vegetasei. Slave uprisings didn't happen often, but every now and then, usually in the more remote areas of the planet, some slaves rebelled. The bracelets acted as handcuffs, reducing a slave's ability to break free. Some slaves were even fitted with binding anklets, but Vegeta didn't feel the need to put these on Bulma...yet.

Turning back to the warriors, he explained what he wanted. "Her identity is not to be revealed. She is merely my pleasure slave, taken as prize after we left Chikyuu. Kakarott is dead; I destroyed him. Then, we decimated the planet. No mention is to be made of this incident until I say so. If either one of you so much as breathes a word of this to anyone, even amongst yourselves, I will kill you both. Do we have an understanding?"

Both men nodded agreement. Radditz didn't even hesitate, and understanding seemed to light his eyes. He would not give Vegeta any problems, for now. However, Radditz did promise to himself that he would look in on the girl from time to time. If he felt she was being mistreated or abused, he would speak to Vegeta.

"Good," the Prince said. "Now leave."

Both soldiers bowed in respect and left. Vegeta stood where he was, looking closely at the sleeping form. Bending over her, he reached out one hand, softly stroking her blue tresses, running a few through his fingers. Gods, do I but want her, he thought. For a fraction of an instant, he thought of throwing everything away. Saying to hell with his duties as Prince, as a Saiya-jin, and wrapping himself in this woman, this goddess, to just be a man, worshipping at her feet.

Then his stomach turned. He was doing it again, allowing this woman's power to overload his senses. He buried his hand in her hair, tightening his grip slightly. "You will bend to my will," he hissed.

"Not a chance in hell, you bastard..." she breathed, finally just waking from her dragonsblood-induced slumber.

Vegeta released her immediately, shame washing over his indiscreet manhandling of her. But she might as well get used it. It was how she would be treated, at least in public, if he was to save face. He had no desire to hurt her, but he would have to use a heavy hand. She was wild and free, something he wasn't used to in a woman, something he found captivating. However, the Court wouldn't admire it. In fact, they'd revile her, finding such open defiance intolerable in a bed slave.

The only way he could preserve his ruse, and her life, was to put fear into her. He grasped her shoulders, hauling her up against the length of her. She 'eeped' in a quiet voice. "Watch what you say, woman, or I'll have you Muted."

She shuddered at their close proximity, but refused to allow herself to be cowed. "What is that? Some barbaric punishment where you remove my tongue?"

Vegeta then became distracted by her mouth, the sensual way it formed words, and of course, the mention of her tongue sent a flurry of erotic thoughts into his head. He threw her back to the bed for fear of losing control.

"No, it doesn't hurt," he answered. "It's a muscle relaxant, designed to numb the throat and larynx muscles, disabling one's speech."

Bulma cringed at the thought. Vegeta saw her fear and was pleased. He never had any attention of Muting her, but it was a good threat. However, his pleasure dissipated when he saw the anger snapping in her eyes. Such fire...

She raised her hands. "What are these? Presents for the Key, in honor of her dignified position?"

His jaw tightened, guilt coursing through him about her unavoidable enslavement. However, his natural arrogance kicked in. "Dignified position? Woman, the only positions you will assume will be either on your knees or on your back!"

He smirked, feeling once again the mighty Prince of the Saiya-jins. His eyes gleamed with lust as they drank in Bulma's rage. She grew disgusted with him, felt herself being driven over the edge. She lunged at him, wanting to rip his eyes out and shred his face.

Vegeta leapt back out of her way, shouting "Attach!"

Bulma's attack lost momentum as her wrists slammed together, and she stumbled, falling right into Vegeta's embrace. He turned her so that her back was plastered against his so he wouldn't get distracted by her eyes.

"Tsk, tsk, little one," he said. "It's not nice to tease the animals." Unable to resist teasing her a little, he drop a kiss on her shoulder, slowly working his way up the column of her neck. His tongue flicked out, caressing the shell of her ear, causing heated tingles to shoot through Bulma's entire body. He nipped the side of her cheek.

"You're right!" Bulma shouted. "You are an animal!"

She slammed her elbow into his stomach, but only felt a sharp jab of pain for her efforts. Vegeta's stomach was rock-hard, and he laughed at her puny struggles. "Whatever this lifetime brings us, it won't be boredom!"

Bulma stilled suddenly like a frightened rabbit. "Lifetime?" she whispered, not wanting to acknowledge his words.

Vegeta stopped laughing, growing more somber by the minute. His only reaction was to nod.

Angry tears burst into Bulma's eyes. "A lifetime spent of you raping me? I'd rather die, thank you very much, even if it's by my own hand."

The Prince became enraged out her outburst. He spun her around, shaking her by the shoulders as he argued, "Woman, you will not die!! If you take your own life, rest assured that I will go back to that backwater hellhole you call home and decimate it, including every living thing."

Bulma's resistance gave out at his point. She collapsed against his chest, too tired and too scared to argue anymore. His arms came up to encircle her. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Little one, I do not know what this is between us. Call it love, passion, whatever you will. It doesn't matter. It can be violent and overwhelming at times, and I find it, you, completely irresistible. But do know this, I will never force your hand against me again."

Bulma raised her head a to look at him, disbelief evident in her eyes. "And why should I believe you?"

"You shouldn't," he responded softly. "I've done nothing to earn your trust. Usually I wouldn't care. With any other woman, I'd rape her over and over again until I'd tired of her. Then I'd kill her or cast her aside, depending on how well she pleased me. You...I could never do that to you."

"Oh, well then. Let's just jump in the sack now and get busy," she snarled. Her sudden anger gave her the means to jerk away from him. She attempted to turn away, but he caught her arm.

"That's not what I meant," he ground out.

"Then what did you mean?"

Vegeta swallowed. He hadn't expected the conversation to this frank. He was admitting things to her he never would have to others. Her ability to make him forget all the walls, all the masks he'd constructed around his true self all these years, was frightening. However, perhaps what was more frightening was that because of those barriers, he wasn't sure who his true self was.

"Look, woman, I know---"

"Bulma," she interrupted softly. "My name is Bulma."

He growled low in annoyance. "Fine, wom-, Bulma. Fine. I just meant that you were not going to suffer at my hands."

Bulma's face contorted with incredulity. She was about to make another smartass remark, but then she looked into his eyes. What she saw in those midnight orbs made her pause. Gone was the selfishness, the arrogance, the cruelty. In its place was pleading, sincerity, and something else she couldn't quite name. Sort of a cross between regret and hope. It was a powerful combination.

"Do you mean that?" she asked, already knowing the answer but needing to him say, just all the same.

"Yes."

"Okay. I believe you," she replied. Holding up her hands, looking pointedly at the conjoined bracelets, she asked, "Why not take these off?"

"Release!"

The bracelets detached, but Vegeta made no move to actually remove them from her wrists. Impatiently, she held up her hands. "Hello? They're not going to jump off by themselves."

Vegeta had to fight to suppress a grin. This woman, Bulma, certainly had spirit. It pleased him very much. The years spent with her would be interesting, to say the least. But then he sobered, realizing she fully expected him to release her from her bonds. Slowly, he pulled her back into his arms. She came without protest, though she remained stiff and aloof.

Leaning his head against hers, as if in sympathy, he murmured, "I can't."

"Can't or won't?" she shot back.

Immediately Bulma struggled again, but he was prepared for that. He tightened his embrace, folding his arms and shoulders protectively around her, trying to keep her from escaping. "Hush, Bulma. If you go arrive on Vegetasei free, someone else will take you. They'll take you because they are stronger, and you are weaker. That is the number one law of my land. Might makes right. I won't release you because I can't stand the thought of someone else owning you."

She'd quieted down, knowing she wasn't going to break free of his iron embrace. "So, I'm just property now?"

"Yes."

"Your property?"

"In the eyes of Saiya-jin law, yes. You are my property, my slave, my chattel. I own you and everything about you. You exist through me."

Her face was pressed against his shoulder, and he could feel moisture from her eyes beginning to drip on his flesh. Her crying didn't keep her from asking questions, though. "So what are you going to do with me?"

Vegeta sighed. "That depends on you. If you're good and obey orders, you'll be spoiled rotten. If you rebel and disobey me, I will have to try other means of taming you."

If her back grows any stiffer, it will break, he thought, knowing his words wounded her pride. But she had to face the truth, especially if she wanted to live. He continued describing her new life. "You'll become part of my household, attending to my needs."

He felt her begin to tremble with rage. "Even if I don't want to. Will what happened last night happen every night? Because I'll fight you so hard...Gods, just leave me alone! I want no part of you!"

When she began to struggle again, Vegeta's patience snapped, and the demon that was his rage roared inside him. He flipped her so that her back was melded to his and turned both of them towards an unbroken mirror in one fluid motion.

He clamped his arm around her waist, hauling her up tighter against him. "You are mine, woman! And I'm going to prove it to you!"

Bulma was trembling, knowing she'd gone too far, but too prideful to beg his forgiveness. She kept her mouth shut, but glared at his reflection, defiance and anger blazing in her eyes, turning them into sapphires.

Vegeta noticed her anger, but that only heightened his desire to teach her her place more. "You want no part of me, hmm?" He asked, his breath tickling her ear. "Then why are you flushed with excitement, not white with fear?"

His free hand stroked her face lightly while his tail snaked its way across her torso, flicking the undersides of each breast before brushing against her nipples. She watched her reflection in horror as they immediately puckered into hard, little nubs, and Vegeta grabbed one, rolling it gently its pearly pinkness between his fingers, causing a heavy, warm heat to rise from her center.

She met his gaze in the mirror. He was smirking, his eyes clouded over in obsession. Her own revealed her conflict between anger and pleasure. Gods, I didn't know his tail could be used like this. Bulma had to bite her tongue to keep from moaning. Vegeta saw her struggle between rebellion and submission, and he continued his demonstration.

"I guess you could argue that this room is cold, and your breasts would react that way if cloth swept against them," he murmured. "There is truly only one place to tell how you're feeling this instant, with me. And only me."

His hand moved from her breast to trail above her abdomen, and then lower. His tail followed suit, brushing lightly at the patch of lavender curls nestled at the juncture of her thighs. Then the furry appendage began making small circles on the soft, sensitive flesh of her inner thighs.

His tail was soon replaced by his fingers, driving her into a frenzy of pent up emotion. When one finger dipped into her folds, she could no longer hold back a moan, and involuntarily, her hips moved down towards his hand. He stroked her a bit, gently at first, but building a steady rhythm.

When he inserted another finger into her, she lost control. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and her body tightened in excitement against his. Pleasure was pounding through her veins, so much she didn't think she could contain it. Through her haze of passion, she opened her eyes slightly, looking at Vegeta in the mirror. He returned her gaze as he continued his skilled manipulation of her flesh. In his eyes, she saw triumph, cold and cruel, blazing a torchlight, but she also thought she caught a glimpse of something else. A gentling, a tenderness, as if he actually wanted her to feel pleasure.

However, that thought was lost as the final tidal wave of her climax washed through her, pumping her dry of all her energy. She cried out, and her body hummed with it for several long moments. Finally, as the tremors subsided, she collapsed weakly against Vegeta, allowing him to support her full weight.

Vegeta's hand when to his mouth, where he slowly licked away the proof of her ecstasy. "Mmm," he purred, before turning her head towards his and capturing her mouth in a searing kiss.

When they broke apart, he whispered, "Never doubt me again."

Bulma's pride wouldn't allow her to capitulate, no matter how much pleasure she had received. "You promised..." she muttered in accusation.

Vegeta chuckled low and cocky. "I promised you I would not force you. I did not promise not to touch you. Besides, I do recall your hands locking around my wrist at one point, urging me faster."

Her face instantly blushed red, and she rolled her head away from him. She couldn't think straight, and it was his fault, of course. She should be trying to escape, to get away from him. But here she was, allowing him to touch her, allowing him to make her feel things she didn't want to feel.

Suddenly, everything became too much for her. She felt fatigued and strained and exhausted. Her pride be damned, she wanted to go home.

"Please," she begged. "Let me go."

Vegeta heard her soft plea and tensed with annoyance. Have I not made it clear that she isn't going anywhere without me, he asked himself. But then he noticed that she really wasn't asking him. She was just staring into nothingness, her body limp and pliant against him. He knew, however, that while she was docile and demure now, later she would be ferocious. He grinned, anticipating their next round already.

Gently turning Bulma in his arms, he scooped her up and cradled her fragile body to his chest. He placed another kiss atop her head as he carried her from the courtesan's den to his own room. She didn't resist at all as he laid her beneath the covers and slid in next to her.

Pulling her back into his embrace, he molded the contours of her softness into his hardness. He knew that she was too tired for any more stimulation, and since they would land on Vegetasei in a few more hours, he let her be, content just to hold her. Then he remembered that he had not answered her earlier plea.

Before allowing himself, too, to drift off into oblivion, he murmured, "Never."

* * * * *