Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Taste of Heat ❯ The way things began... ( Prologue )

A Taste Of Heat

 

Prequel

 

I know that you've been enjoying this, and I suddenly had the urge to write a prequel to the events in chapter 1. It's a bit on the dark side, but it answers some questions as to why Vegeta's so moody and unpredictable. Hope you enjoy this till I get more written for the next chapter.

***

 

Shortly after she invited Vegeta to live with them after they had been wished to Namek she wished she had gone forward in time and shot herself for being so foolish. She often didn't see him creeping through the laboratory. A year had sped by almost like nothing into a routine involving full immersion in training. Like a diver he only surfaced for food and the occasional round of training bots. Bulma couldn't believe her father's tremulous admission that the Prince had demanded a gravity chamber like a spoiled brat.

 

Her parents advised her not to piss him off. It was her fault for inviting him and the Namekians to stay anyhow. While they ate nothing he consumed enough to feed a family of four daily. Thankfully he ate most meals in his bungalow adjoining the chamber. Yamucha uneasily kept a vigil day in and out. They were thankful the baseball player was staying with them in case Vegeta got out of line. He still had his room up the hall from Bulma's. Breakfast consisted of Yamucha wandering down in his sweat pants after a bleary-eyed Bulma and Puar on his shoulders.

 

"Another day, another pot of java," Bulma yawned, plunking into the chair.

 

"I'll get it," Yamucha mumbled, scrubbing sleep out of his eyes. She was glad to have him around because the Prince drove them both crazy with what he'd do next. Not that he HAD attacked either one of them. Rather he kept his business between her father and himself.

 

"Thanks Yami," she yawned, feeling a strange feeling creep down her spine. Sometimes she felt as if she was being watched. It caused her hair to stand up on end.

 

"Cream and sugar Babe?" Yamucha asked. Bulma nodded. He returned with two steaming mugs of coffee. Both youths slammed down their mugs before hearing Mrs. Briefs light footsteps on the tile. They buried their weariness in the quick buzz that ran over both of them. Puar squeaked with joy at the sounds of eggs being cracked into a pan, followed by sizzling bacon and pancake mix.

 

"Another late night, dears?" she asked.

 

"Mmm hmm," Bulma nodded. Yamucha yawned, spreading his arms out to their full extent.

 

"You bet, Ma'am," he nodded. "You're looking as lovely as ever."

 

"You kidder! You KNOW I'm a married woman!" she teased, giving his arm a smack. Yamucha rose to help pull down plates and set the table while Bulma wearily grabbed the plates of breakfast from her mother.

 

As Yamucha moved past her to get the syrup he felt a hand pinching his ass. "YIKES!" he yelped, almost dropping the bottle.

 

"Oh dear me, was that my hand?" she teased.

 

"You know I'm already spoken for," Yamucha laughed and blushed.

 

"Mother!" Bulma yelped, as he gave an awkward chuckle. He sat down; grabbing silverware eagerly while Bulma laid his plate with pancakes and sausage. Dr. Briefs shuffled in minutes later, wiping weariness from red rimmed eyes.

 

"Another late night huh? That little alien keeping you burning the midnight oil?" asked Yamucha in concern.

 

"Yep, but at least he's keeping to himself," said Dr. Briefs. He pecked his wife on the cheek, then slid behind the table and plopped into the chair.

 

"I swear he's driving you insane! Why can't you just tell him no?" Bulma demanded.

 

"Dear, with all due respect it's your fault that you got us into this. So unless you'd like to deal with his Whyness, I'd suggest you assist me or else not complain, Princess?" asked her father as patiently as he could.

 

"I'll tell him all right," said Bulma.

 

"Who's going to take his breakfast?" asked Mrs. Briefs. "I of course wouldn't mind."

 

"I'll do it," Yamucha offered, getting up.

 

"Thank you, dearie," said Mrs. Briefs handing him a tray. Yamucha strode out of the kitchen carrying a tray heavily piled with food. Bulma watched the sway of his backside as he departed, shaking her head.

 

"I didn't realize it would be like this Dad," she apologized. "You could have asked me for help."

 

"It's not THAT bad. He has pushed me to develop the training systems far quicker then I would have accomplished on my own," Dr. Briefs said, peering at his breakfast his wife set before him.

 

"Well someone should tell him to back off. Yamucha's here, and I'm sure Vegeta wouldn't risk messing with him or else the other Z fighters would gang up on him," Bulma huffed. "Besides, I can handle that spoiled brat."

 

"Are you sure? He's very dangerous," said Dr. Briefs.

 

"He's just a spoiled kid. I think if someone stood up to him, he'd back down. He hasn't blown any of us up yet," Bulma said. "And if he does, Yamucha would give him a taste of his wolf's fang fist."

 

"I'm not altogether sure even your boyfriend could stand up to him," said Dr. Briefs.

 

"He's not THAT bad," said Mrs. Briefs. "He's just misunderstood the poor dear."

 

Both father and daughter stared at her as if she'd sprouted a second head. Incredulously they shook their heads and sighed. Just what perceptions she had of Vegeta baffled them. OF all of them Vegeta never spoke a cross word to her. Perhaps he was just trying to keep from getting his ass pinched.

 

Later that day, Bulma shoed her father out of his lab, and took her place behind the lab bench. Arrayed in all their gory detail were the bots Vegeta had summarily destroyed the day before. Bulma heaved in a sigh, picking up her father's tools to dive in.

 

"Damn pain in the ass Prince," she mumbled, prodding the messes with a screwdriver. "These are going to have to totally be rebuilt!"

 

How one alien could cause such wholesale destruction amazed and horrified her. He was arguably the second strongest fighter on the planet. With Goku off training with Piccolo and Gohan, that left only Yamucha to rely on if Vegeta got out of control. Despite her confidence in her desert bandit, she knew in her heart he stood an ice cube's chance in hell of standing up to the Prince.

 

"Where is the old fool?" someone snorted, causing Bulma to yelp. The tools clattered to the floor, and she felt hot breath fanning her neck.

 

"He's taking a break. You've been pushing him too hard. So I figured I'd give him a hand, no thanks to you, your Whyness," Bulma said, not turning around. Trying to press her legs together so her knees didn't knock together, Bulma tightened her grip on the table. Images of that day on Namek rushed back to her.

 

"So the woman thought she'd come to her old man's rescue ne?" Vegeta snickered. "Not MUCH of an improvement. Just have them ready by lunchtime."

 

"Vegeta, we're not indestructible!" she gritted, sensing him now only a foot behind her. Body warmth and energy crackled from his body to hers.

 

"So, what do I care if you're weaklings? Just DO it," he snorted.

 

"Do it yourself," she mumbled.

 

"What was that?"

 

"I said, if you want it why don't YOU do it?" Bulma said, wondering if she'd signed her death warrant.

 

"You presume to order me about, woman? Don't make me laugh," Vegeta snorted.

 

"Yeah, wanna make something of it?" Bulma asked, spinning around to face him. In blue spandex that was slightly worn, and a patched armored breastplate he glared at her.

 

"Humph, do you forget who your better is?" he asked.

 

"I could care less. Just leave me alone if you want this done. Standing here watching me isn't gonna make it go faster unless you soil your damn gloves helping me," she glared at him.

 

"Me, reduced to doing scut work? No that's YOUR job, female," Vegeta laughed.

 

"Then bugger off and let me get to it! OR else shut up!" Bulma snapped.

 

"Heh, you're a feisty one," he smirked, the corner of his mouth turning up.

 

"So what? Just get lost before I lose my temper, your majesty! I'm serious now!"

 

"Are you? Remember your place!"

 

"It's here, and yours is in there, so BEAT IT!" she yelled. "I'm SICK of you hounding my father. Just WHO do you think you are?"

"Must I remind..."

 

"Yeah I know you're the Prince of all Saiyans. Big fucking whoop! Sometimes I think I should shoot myself for inviting your ungrateful ASS to live here! You have no right treating my father like that when he's only doing you a favor!"

 

"You should watch your tongue, woman!" Vegeta glared at her.

 

"Or WHAT?" Bulma glared at him.

 

"Or you could end up regretting your words," Vegeta growled, hand flashing out to grasp her neck.

 

"Go ahead, kill me," Bulma stammered, steadying her voice. "Prove you're a badass prince. Kill me!"

 

"You... are pissing me off, woman. Do you enjoy staring DEATH in the face?"

 

"Not when it's yours. So are you going to do it, or not?" Bulma asked, looking up at him as he squeezed tightly. "Are you Saiyan enough to kill a defenseless woman?"

 

"Shut up," Vegeta snapped. "Don't MAKE me kill you."

 

"Why aren't you?" she asked, feeling his hold tighten completely.

 

"Aren't you scared of me?"

 

"I'd be... stupid not to be, but if you kill me, you'll never defeat Goku," she croaked.

 

"Be glad I'm in a generous mood. You're not worth the effort," Vegeta mumbled, releasing her. She slid to the floor, shaking. But his hand caught her arm to steady her.

 

"Is that so?" she asked, feeling the pressure of his glove closing viselike. "Or something else?"

 

"Don't push your luck, woman," Vegeta breathed, tugging her close so she landed against his chest. "You shouldn't try and press my buttons. You won't like the result."

 

"You do the same thing to us, so what difference does it make?" Bulma said, sticking out her chin defiantly. She wondered why chills ran down her spine when Vegeta pressed her between the lab counter and his body.

 

"You really are dancing with the devil. Aren't you the least bit concerned I might kill you at any moment?"

 

"I'd be lying if I said no," Bulma whispered, sensing that he really wouldn't kill her because of that gleam of excitement in his eyes.

 

"What sort of woman are you? Are you insane, or braver then I thought?" Vegeta clicked his tongue.

 

"I want you... to back away from me," Bulma said shakily. "Right now, please."

 

"Are you scared now?" Vegeta snickered.

 

"Vegeta, your Majesty, please let me go," Bulma asked again.

 

"And what will you do if I don't?" Vegeta laughed, grabbing her neck again.

 

"I'll scream," Bulma whispered, pressing her hands against his chest. It was like trying to move a bolder but she pushed as hard as she could. Surprisingly Vegeta's hip was turned to one side, and the evidence of any erection was not being pushed into her groin. Rather one knee was forwards with his hip pinning her, not his pelvis.

 

"Such a fragile foolish creature, in such a repulsive body. Amazing that your spirit burns so brightly so close to your own death," Vegeta breathed.

 

"Vegeta, please just let me go," Bulma stammered, a wave of fear passing through her.

 

"You ARE frightened," Vegeta said, his breath hitting her neck. "Very interesting."

 

"Let me GO!" Bulma demanded, her voice shaky but loud.

 

"I don't think I will," he laughed.

 

"Vegeta... you ARE scaring me, just... knock it off... I..." she gasped.

 

"What precisely do you fear, woman?" he asked, his gloved hand still around her throat but not constricting. Rather he tipped her chin back to gaze at her neck as she closed her eyes, silently praying. His other hand raised up to stroke through her hair while he was so close. Against his armored chest hers heaved in and out, tears forming in her eyes as she felt the shivering between her legs.

 

"Just... let me go," she stammered. "I'll fix your damn bots, don't do this... you don't want to..."

 

"Do what? I'm not going to kill you. You're not worth the effort," Vegeta laughed. "A moment ago you were all brass and now you're terrified. What do you think I'm going to do."

 

"You don't want to do this... don't... take me," she pleaded.

 

"Take you WHERE?" Vegeta snorted. "Woman, what DO you fear? Tell me and Ill release you. I'm in a magnanimous mood."

 

"Don't... rape me," she whispered.

 

"Rape you? Are you insane?" Vegeta snorted. "You actually think I'd lower myself to fuck you against your will? How foolish!"

 

"You mean you aren't..." she trailed off.

 

"You have a high opinion of yourself, woman," Vegeta snorted, grabbing both her wrists and glaring at her.

 

"Then why are you doing this?" she asked. "You scared the shit out of me, satisfied?"

 

"No," Vegeta murmured, glancing at her with widened eyes. He snorted, smelling something that made his nose twitch. His hip was pressed right into her sex, and Bulma tingled with sexual fervor.

 

"Please, let me go, okay?" she asked.

 

"Humph, be glad you amuse me, woman," Vegeta said, releasing her. He stepped back, and Bulma felt her knees quaking. She stepped to the side, and stumbled. His arms reached out and grasped her waist, and she shivered again in fear. Promptly she passed out with relief. Grumbling, Vegeta picked up the woman and shoved a lab counter clear. He laid her down, wondering what the hell had just happened.

 

"Why does she smell that way. Could she be aroused by fear?" Vegeta blinked. A sense of revulsion and thrill filled him when he smelled her heat.

 

He grabbed a cup of water and threw it over her. Bulma blinked and jolted up, screaming as she saw the Saiyan Prince leaning over her in confusion. "You... you're still here!"

 

"I am. What was the reason you lost unconsciousness?"

 

"You scared the shit out of me, you asshole!" she snapped, scrambling to put the lab counter between them.

 

"I won't hurt you, idiotic woman. I was only trying to scare you," Vegeta snorted.

 

"How do I know that? Get out of here! You've had your sick thrills now BEAT it!"

 

"I'm wasting my time anyway," Vegeta snorted, turning his back and storming out. Bulma felt her heart pounding in her chest, amazed she was alive.

***

Later in the week she rarely saw him, except when he would glance in and then move away. Like a wary animal he kept clear of her, making her wonder what the hell was going on? Had she somehow spooked him? Eventually he would drift into the lab, and make some insulting comment that she would respond to. Day after day she was amazed he didn't threaten her physically. In fact he kept his distance from her.

 

Which was why she was surprised two weeks later by what happened. As part of the Capsule 4 she shinnied up a tall ladder to install the engine parts. While a bot could do the job, Bulma had the urge to tone her legs for Yamucha. Lately he had spent more and more time at the gym. They had not been on a date that whole time Vegeta had spooked her in the lab.

 

She hadn't told Yamucha what happened. Partly she was afraid it would cause Yamucha to confront Vegeta and get himself killed. Vegeta kept to himself, minimizing all contact save peering in to check on her, or grunting at Yamucha bringing his food. Bulma a few times would leave the tray before the GR, and he would open the hatch when he was ready to take it, grumbling at her to leave.

 

"Damn I forgot my soldiering iron," she cursed. She shinned down and then grabbed it from the workbench. Around her hips was her tool belt, and on her face a large backward cap. IN shorts and a T-shirt she was casual and sweaty. Her messy hair was tucked into a loose braid. She hadn't worn it that way since she was a teenager.

 

Bulma cursed again, reaching her arm out to try and reach the panel. She leaned forwards, then crawled up to the top rung. If she stretched her tiptoes she could just about reach the control circuit and quickly solder it. Precariously the ladder wobbled, and she felt the world pitch sideways. A scream escaped her lips as she felt her footing slip.

 

Then something crashed under her. Panting, Bulma realized she hadn't hit the ground. Rather something warm and breathing held her off the ground. Stunned, she lay still, wondering what had just happened. The ladder lay on its side having fallen with a horrible clatter at least twenty feet. A voice gruffly snarled, "You stupid woman what the FUCK do you think you're doing? Showing how brainless you are?"

 

"What... who..." she stammered.

 

"Are you dead, or what, idiot!" Vegeta snarled at her. She blinked up to see he had caught her under her arms and back, glaring at her as if she was the stupidest thing on two feet.

 

"What do you care! Put me down you ass!" she snapped. Vegeta carried her over and deposited her with an inelegant thump on a lab stool.

 

"What were you trying to do, you weak human female? Don't you have your bots do that?" Vegeta ranted.

 

"I repeat, what do you care?" Bulma yelled back, hardly believing he had caught her.

 

"I don't want to clean the mess off the lab floor. What would that doddering fool of a father think? Besides, who would finish the new GR?" he snorted.

 

"Thanks bunches," she stammered, panting hard.

 

"Humph, be more careful. I won't always be around to save your fat ass," Vegeta glared, storming off as if he were incredibly pissed.

 

"Wait a minute!"

 

"What do you want now, fool?" he grunted.

 

"Thanks for saving my ass," she said quietly.

 

"Humph," Vegeta grunted, marching out.

***

Another day of learning the ropes at Capsule had her nerves frayed to shreds. The future President had endured a whole few months of her father pushing her to learn each and every facet of running Capsule Corps for he was only thinking of his future and hers. So far she was failing miserably according to his standards.

 

"It's not too much to ask that you pay attention, Princess," said Dr. Briefs, pursuing her in. "You're the future. I've always groomed you to be my successor. I'd hate to be wrong."

 

"Dad I'm trying! I can't be you, okay?"

 

"Bulma you're smart and intelligent. If I can run this place from nothing you should find it a snap! I can't understand why it's such an issue. Economics is a science, and you've always succeeded in everything you put your mind to. Haven't you been studying the latest quarterly report?"

 

"Dad I'm sorry that I was caught off guard. I've been distracted lately."

 

"It's the least I can ask you to do to spend more time each night when you're tinkering in your labs to study what I've given you! You can hire scientists to carry your research out once you're President. Even now you refused to hire a new Vice President of R and D who could have easily taken over your projects to free you up!"

 

"I like working in the lab, okay? It's the only way I get any relief from His Royal Nastiness!"

 

"Vegeta works hard to protect us. And you've got to do your part as well. I'm counting on you. What if something should happen to me?"

 

"I help you fix the GR as it is! Isn't that my main priority?"

 

"Your priorities have to be on multitasking. Make more efficient use of your time and you should be able to handle it all," he snorted. "You've got to learn sooner or later. I mean you could cut back on that shopping you do..."

 

"Dad please, it relaxes me! You don't know what I go through!"

 

"I do, and I'm rather tired of your excuses. I can't believe you almost fell asleep during a meeting! Perhaps you'll have to make sacrifices..."

 

"Fine I'll try harder," she mumbled.

 

"Good. Just realize that we each must do our part, dear. It's only for the best. If you succeed then you'll be able to carry on my work," Dr. Briefs said. Turning he left his daughter alone to contemplate his words.

 

"He makes me SO mad I want to scream," she mumbled. Angrily she wandered to the kitchen desperate for anything to distract her.

 

Her mother looked up from what she was doing, and Bulma saw to her dismay that dinner was only partly started. "Oh honey, you'll have to finish cooking dinner for that lovely young man. Your father and I have bridge tonight with the Cinnamons because your father has some business deal to close with the mister while I schmooze with the missus. I've put the steak in to broil, and you just need to make sure they come out in time with the potatoes."

 

"Mom, are you sure I have to do it? I'm really tired I had a LONG day," she sighed.

 

"Honey you know how important this is to your father and me, please?" she urged. "I forgot."

 

"You could program the bots to do it," Bulma sighed, sinking into a nearby chair in exhaustion. Her mother set down a tumbler filled with icy water next to her. Gratefully she swallowed it.

 

"Dearie, you know he hates machine cooked food! We need to treat him with respect, after all he IS royalty and he IS so bravely working to defend us from those awful nasty machines, remember?" Bunny said sweetly.

 

"Fine, I'll do it. When do you and Daddy leave?"

 

"In just a half hour. Make sure you have dinner ready for Vegeta by half past six. Oh dear I have to go get dressed! And don't worry, I'm sure you'll have no problem with him this time. A well fed man is always a happy man," she grinned.

 

"Okay," she mumbled as her mother moved off, giving her a peck on the cheek. Somberly Bulma tied an apron around her skirt, annoyed that she had no time to change.

 

It would take a considerable amount of time to get everything ready, even though her mother had set a vast amount of food out for her to heat and finish. Just loading up the plates was a chore. Yet Bulma was glad for something that wasn't too hard to screw up. Everything was more or less cooked. All she had to do was set the large dining room table with the vast amounts of food for Vegeta in multiples of ten. They were all lined up in neat ranks with cellophane covering the ten salads, then the plates of main course.

 

Of course Bulma set some aside for herself. Munching on carrot sticks she raced the next portions out just in time to see her mother and father hurrying down the stairs. They waved goodbye in a flurry. Her mother whispered her thanks, and her father gave her a nod.

 

"Don't forget to read about the Jasmine account. We have a business meeting first thing Monday morning, all right?" he said. "And don't wait up for mom and me. We might very well spend the night."

 

"Fine dad," she said.

 

"Don't forget the report. And I've left the computer discs with the data files on your laptop. You should use the time this weekend to get caught up and prepare that presentation. I've had your secretary prepare everything you need..."

 

"Dad, its FRIDAY!"

 

"Honey please, if you knuckle down you can knock their socks off. Considering the stellar flop that went today, you might just pull the account out of the dustbin if you pull it off!"

 

"Dad," she sighed.

 

"Bye, and don't forget what we talked about. I'm counting on you!" he said, rushing off after his wife. Bulma clenched her fists, then threw the binder onto the sofa with the computer discs that tumbled out.

 

"Damn it, what do I look like? A maid and VP?" she cursed.

 

"No, you look like an idiot, Bulma. Is dinner prepared?" Vegeta asked, making her shriek.

 

"Don't you SCARE me like that!"

 

"I hope that idiot boyfriend of yours isn't joining us. I can't stand his idle prattle!"

 

"Yamucha has a GAME, not that it's any of your business. Now just go sit down and eat! I've fixed everything so you can just shut up and stuff your face, your Whyness," she grumbled.

 

"Someone have a bad day at the hair salon?" Vegeta grinned; tossing a sweat saturated towel at her. She grabbed it and threw it down.

 

"I'm not going to let you piss me off. I've already eaten. Just leave the dirty dishes on the table and I'll get them later," she said.

 

"Humph, are you actually deigning to do as I ask? Whatever has come over you, woman?" he asked.

 

"Just eat already, so I get you out of my face," she snorted, marching as far away as she could into the kitchen. Vegeta smirked, and wandered towards the dining room table. It was a nice change to have dinner in peace.

 

When he had finished, he saw no sign of her. It worried him to see her so strangely cooperative in retrospect. Usually she would have given him more resistance. At last when she came in to collect the dirty dishes from the soup and salad, he saw the frown on her face.

 

"You look like that idiot mother of yours in that apron. But what the hell is this with that stupid thing you call a suit?"

 

Bulma didn't answer, simply clanking dishes and throwing them into the large buffet cart. She barked an order to one of the bots to push it towards the kitchen as she snatched the glass away from him that he handed to her.

 

"Anything ELSE, your Majesty, or can I GO?" she snorted. "I brought your damn desert. The bots will clean up the rest!"

 

"Well, now that you mention it, it's rather peaceful with your voice not screeching in my ear. Did you actually take some etiquette lessons?"

 

"Go away Princely pants, I'm not in the mood. You'll have to argue at the mirror tonight because I'm going to shower and bed."

 

"What the hell is bothering you? You broke a nail or something?" Vegeta taunted, finishing his prime rib.

 

"I haven't had time for such stupid shit, baka," she countered, shoving the potatoes at him.

 

"Oh this is a first, you not stopping to coordinate your nail polish to that scrap of cloth you call a power suit? What will the neighbors think? You're slipping, woman," Vegeta grinned.

 

"Bite me," she snapped. "I'm not in the mood. Just leave me alone, okay?"

 

"Too bad. You're just begging for it. Moping around like some spoiled brat when you could make yourself useful on those upgrades. Or is your social calendar too filled with that shopping..."

 

"Vegeta, fuck off! I don't just sit and eat bon bons and do my hair and nails! For your info I am learning to run this damn company!"

 

"Oh, is he insane. You must be his last resort since he has no son to pass this onto," he chuckled. "As if you could run anything."

 

"For your information, your Royal Nastiness, I'm going to be the next president of Capsule. I could run this place fine if I didn't have to wait on YOU hand and foot!" she yelled.

 

"It's not my fault you like to moon over that idiotic weakling or moan and sigh because you don't have your act together, idiot," Vegeta said. "You'd not last a minute running a kingdom, let alone a stupid corporation!"

 

Bulma gripped the end of the table, feeling hot tears form. Anger filled her and she was desperate to hold it together so she wouldn't cry before him. She felt the past few years of frustration bubbling up and Vegeta was a convenient target. "As if you would care! I haven't seen YOU run anything since your planet was blown sky high! So don't even try judging me!"

 

"You've a lot of nerve saying THAT! I'm a Prince and I'm perfectly capable of running a kingdom. You should shut up about matters you no nothing about! How dare you insult me!"

 

"How dare YOU insult me, you prick! If it wasn't for this corporation you'd be SOL!"

 

"I could run this miserable game with my eyes closed, woman," he snorted.

 

"Then you try to run the company!" she burst out. "I didn't ASK for my father to pass this onto me!"

 

"As if I even care about it. This place is useless. Although I figure I could do a far better job then you ever could. Considering how you daydream all the time," he snickered.

 

"Maybe you're right? I wish to hell I never had to see a damn stock report again?" she yelled at him, throwing a binder in his direction. "Just LEAVE ME ALONE!"

 

Bulma shoved herself away from the table, and didn't even look back. "Hey, I didn't give you permission to leave!" he snapped.

 

"I don't care, asshole! Go get bent!" she screamed, wheeling on him. "Damn you, you have no RIGHT to tell ME what to do! I'm so sick of people telling me what to think and feel that..."

 

"I have every right, considering I'm far superior to any of you weaklings. And I the Prince..."

 

"Then act worthy of my respect!" she yelled back. "You're no prince I'd want to rule over me! You don't have any clue of what it is to really lead anything! All you know how to do is boss people around. Well let me tell you that's NO way to lead!"

 

"I would hold my tongue if I were you! I'm born and bred to lead. You're a poor excuse to even deign to judge what leadership qualities are!" Vegeta hissed, grabbing her wrist and tugging her towards him.

 

"I don't CARE what you think about me, Vegeta! You hear me, I don't CARE!" she screamed. Angrily she beat her free hand on his chest.

 

"The bitch has a temper? Mind you watch your claws before I tear them out," Vegeta taunted her.

 

Angrily she squirmed and kicked against him. She spit in his face, screaming, "Why can't you leave me alone! Damn you, just leave me alone! I can't... I can't..."

 

"You dare to spit in my face? Such insult to the Royal person is punishable by DEATH!" he threatened, grasping her throat and pressing her against the wall. HE grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.

 

Bulma stared right into his pitch black eyes, finally snapping. All the insults he had slowly piled up towards her were a fun game of verbal banter. Yet she was sick of the constant assault by every member of authority. For a moment she placed her father's face on Vegeta's, then threw her fear to the wind. Perhaps he would back down if she pushed hard enough. Doubtless he was just trying to get a rise out of her.

 

"You'd kill me for something THAT lame?" she asked. "It's not MY fault you're so damn sensitive! If you want my respect, EARN IT!"

 

"I demand you apologize to me this instant. It's only because you have some use that I don't kill you now, woman," said Vegeta in cold rage. He couldn't understand why she was so foolish to attack him with such disrespect. While such insults could not go unpunished he really didn't want to kill her. Rather just scare her into submission because he enjoyed their arguments. Nevertheless there was hatred towards him that he didn't like, and his pride would not tolerate such flagrant disrespect.

 

"Oh shit, you'd really kill me?" she asked.

 

"I have the power of life and death over you, female. Don't ever forget that I tolerate your presence because you're of use to me. But that doesn't mean that you dare overstep that and think you can get away with saying such slander!"

 

"You have no right to insult me like that! If you want me to apologize, treat me like a human being, Vegeta. That's ALL I ask! Damn it, can't you see I'm at my wit's end!"

 

"What did you say, woman? That didn't sound like an apology. Care to try AGAIN?" Vegeta demanded, his gloved hand enclosing her slender neck. He pushed her towards the wall, not hurting her but snaring her body with his pressed to it.

 

"I'm sorry I said that, okay," she whimpered. "Just please let me go. I've had the day from hell and I'm too tired to argue."

 

"Took you long enough to apologize," Vegeta said, blinking at her response.

 

"You're right, I'm wrong, let's just call it a day? Please?" she pleaded.

 

Vegeta blinked at her response, his next words stopping on his tongue. He hadn't expected that admission. What he had hoped for was some groveling, but this was downright desperate, almost pathetic? For as much as he wanted her to submit something inside told him that he didn't want the Woman to be reduced to such a base level. All the fire and spirit had blown out. Had he really been that forceful? By now she would have fought back, instead of giving up so easily. Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, feeling fear and anger explode. At that moment she knew she was likely to be dead.

 

"Well, I should hope I'm right, because I'm the Prince, and you serve me. You're lucky I'm in a generous mood today, woman," he sneered.

 

"What's the use in fighting with you if you're always right? Please, just let me go, Vegeta-sama," she sniffled. He saw a gleaming moisture pool up at the corners of her eyes. Bulma was so weary of fighting she didn't care what he would do next. Shame and fear spread all over her body because she believed she truly was a failure. She had let Vegeta get the better of her, something that was the cherry on top of the sundae she had constructed for most of her life. Failed daughter, failed girlfriend, failed inventor, and failure period.

 

Every muscle went limp in Vegeta's grip. He watched Bulma bite her bottom lip with pearly white teeth so puny and blunt. A choked back sob bubbled out of her throat. She shivered despite the fact it was not very cold in the kitchen. Tears spilled down her pale cheeks, wetting the fabric of his glove. Pure shock and surprise hit Vegeta like a meteorite. Ordinarily he enjoyed making people weaker then him suffer, but he didn't want this. IT was far too easy. Why was she making it so easy? Was she mocking him?

 

"You can go free woman I'm done with you. See that you don't push me that far again with such a disrespectful tone. I might not be able to stop myself next time from seriously hurting you," he said gruffly, releasing her and stepping back.

 

Bulma hugged herself, walking past him with slumped shoulders. Vegeta watched her retreat in defeat, dragging her feet. Small whimpers caused her chest to heave in and out. A pang of something unfamiliar constricted the Prince's throat, bringing back memories of something he'd suppressed. For a moment he saw a small boy whimpering and crying after Frieza had beaten him for subordination. That one-day the Princeling had enough, and decided the only way to survive was to play the victim. Freiza actually let him go that one time then berated him later for giving up so easily.

 

"You are pathetic. I had such hopes that you would defy me. But I should be glad you value your life over your stupid monkey pride. Remember you place as you have today, and perhaps I will be quicker to give you what little respect you don't deserve, worm," Freiza had leered as he shoved Vegeta's back with his boot.

 

"I serve you," he said quietly. "My life is at your command."

 

"Heh, so compliant. I suppose I have won after all," he snickered. "You may go, worm. And see to it that you recall this day. Whimpering and crawling will only get you so far. I thought you had more pride, but perhaps I was misjudging you as far weaker then you say you were. So much like your father, all pride and stubbornness, but I beat it out of him. Perhaps it's fortunate that you have learned to humble yourself in my greatness. I might even let you live another year."

 

Shuddering with the memory Vegeta snapped his head back and forth to banish it. Abruptly he forced his mind back tot he present. That way in which Bulma's face wrinkled with humiliation bothered him. could he possibly snap her out of that annoying funk by baiting her again? Perhaps then she'd remind him she did have a backbone. So he needled, "What's wrong? You realize that I'm truly your superior after all?"

 

"Does it matter?" she asked, not turning around.

 

"Woman, you give up so easily," Vegeta said with a slow taunt.

 

"Just leave me alone Vegeta, please," she whimpered.

 

"Humph, what the hell's wrong with you lately?" he mumbled.

 

Bulma had already left by the time he turned around. Strangely his victory felt hollow. Again he felt the pang of guilt cross through his mind, but this time he did not push it aside. The woman wasn't her usual self, and he had broken her, something that he had never wished to do. He wandered after her, his curiosity piqued.