Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Free My Heart ❯ Chapter Seven ( Chapter 7 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

DISCLAIMER: I do not own or profit from Dragon Ball Z.
A/N: Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews and support. I am so pleased you are all enjoying this story as much as I am. I have to admit, I did miss writing of my prince.
A/N: If it's a trite dramatic set up, I will write it. What can I say? I LOVE this sort of stuff. Give me a distressed damsel and a dark savior any day of the week, and I'll eat it up like chocolate!
Kinky-Typo has produced another beautiful piece of artwork for this story.  You can find her work at http://kinky-typo.deviantart.com/art/Free-My-Heart-119156758   Please go check it out.
WARNING: Extreme Violence.
 
Free My Heart
Vegeta hardly ever slept. Saiyans could go for days at a time without closing their eyes. The longer they went without sleep, the more animalistic they became. It made them effective on the battlefield. They could fight in the blistering noon day sun without breaking a serious sweat, and continue until the moon invaded the night sky. Dirges were sung of their terrible glowing eyes and skin painted red with blood, of how they advanced on their enemies, decimating them with their incredible stamina and complete lack of needs. They were terrifying in their continuous onslaught. They didn't need food, drink or sleep. They thrived on battle. Lived it. Saiyans were war personified.
Vegeta watched as Bulma slept. Even in the dark, her pale ivory skin glowed. Her blue hair spilled around her face in a dark halo, gently caressing her cheeks. She moved restlessly on the cot. During the day she complained endlessly about how uncomfortable it was, but she never moved the pallet to the floor. Vegeta suspected she was afraid. Of what, he didn't know.
Sometimes she whimpered. Small, tiny sounds. Achingly, sad sounds. When she did, without volition, he would crouch down beside her, his dark eyes roving over her pained face. He knew she was dreaming. Remembering. He couldn't bear to touch her. He didn't dare. Not when she was so vulnerable, so open to the darkness. But he couldn't stop himself from breathing, from drawing in her scent, filing his lungs with it.
As soon as he neared, she would become still. As if she could feel the shadow he cast over her. At first he thought it was fearful instinct. Prey, hunkering down as it's stalker passed by. But every time he neared, she turned her face toward him, seeking him. Her brow cleared, and her breathing deepened as she scented him.
Vegeta never slept while imprisoned. Every second, every hour without sleep, he fell in sync with his primal side. The instinctual animal inside of him that recognized certain truths. Blood meant death. Death meant food. Food sustained mates. Mates meant life.
Vegeta withdrew from her, holding himself apart, desperate to retain his pride. Over and over he told himself the attraction he felt for the delicate woman was merely physical need, instinct to spread his seed. If he could just maintain distance he would defeat his enemies. If he stayed separate, then he would be able to leave her behind. Then he wouldn't need her, crave her, desire her. As long as he didn't touch her, the heat wouldn't be able to invade his heart, thawing him out so he could feel again.
If he didn't speak, she would never know all his secrets.
Vegeta didn't talk to her for a full day. Apparently, he used up his entire quota of words for a month. He grunted when called for, but he barely looked at her, and he surely didn't volunteer anymore personal information. He just completely shut down. By the next afternoon, Bulma was fairly certain she was going insane. By nature she was a social butterfly. Even when she ran away from home, it hadn't taken her long to find a companion to share her time with. There was nothing more in life she hated than being alone. Except for maybe being alone while in the room with another person.
All the brooding silence between them just gave her time to think. Usually she could crowd her mind with equations and calculations, but things she had known since she was a baby slipped away from her. Every time she tried to concentrate, the only thing she could remember were her parents faces twisted in death or the acrid smell of her home burning.
She lay back in the cot, heels of her hands pressed into her eyes to stem the burning tears fighting to be free. She didn't want to cry anymore. She didn't want to see the look of disgust on Vegeta's face. In the end, all it got her were red eyes, and an empty soul.
The grating sound of the door latch being thrown intruded on her misery and a wave of relief washed over her. She was certain, what was about to happen was going to be horrible, but at least something was about to happen.
When the door opened, she was surprised to see only Zarbon. She thought for sure Jeice panted after him like a bitch in heat wherever he went. Her sense of relief evaporated when she saw the heavy frown he was sporting. She sat up on the cot, curling her knees into her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. Vegeta, she noticed, didn't even bother to stand up. He just sneered from his corner, silently daring Zarbon to screw with him.
“I'm really disappointed in you two. You've been in here for days. I expected more.” His warm amber eyes flickered over to Bulma. She was struck by how gorgeous he was. It made her wonder about the balance of the universe. If all things beautiful were evil, did that mean everything ugly was good?
“Maybe you just aren't Prince Vegeta's type. I would have definitely fucked you by now.”
“Just goes to show how much integrity a prince has over a maggot such as yourself,” Bulma responded coolly, her eyes chips of ice. Inside she was shaking, but she reminded herself that composure was everything in a world where evil stared you down on a daily basis.
Zarbon's sneer of disgust turned to vicious anger. Slowly, Vegeta pushed himself up the wall to stand in his corner. Bulma tightened her arms around her knees, but didn't drop her offending stare.
“Well I guess I'm going to have to introduce you to someone who has a little less integrity than your precious prince.”
He disappeared from the door, and a hulking man replaced him. He was gigantic. Possibly, taller than Nappa. He looked human enough, but with yellowish skin and a shock of bright orange hair. He wore a too tight, too short light gray button down shirt and loose fitting pants. He had a collar like Vegeta's, with the same flickering lights. He grinned when he saw her, the curling corners of his mouth stretching back like a snake's.
He stepped into the room, and he seemed to tower over everything. Bulma could tell it wasn't skin covering him, but very short fur. She imagined it must feel like suede. His golden, tiger eyes scraped over her like she was meat ready to be devoured.
“This is, Thorn. Tell them your favorite pastime, Thorn.”
Thorn's grin widened, and Bulma felt dread bubble up in her stomach. “Makin' women scream,” the man purred, licking his lips in promise. Vegeta took a step off the wall, glaring murderously.
“Thorn here is going to be your new cellmate. I'm sure you'll make the effort to get along.”
Zarbon laughed and slammed the door, leaving the three of them to stare at each other.
Very slowly, Throne reached behind him, gathering up the back of his shirt in his big fist. He pulled it over his head, throwing it into a crumpled heap in the corner. The entire time his predatory eyes pinned her to the spot unblinkingly.
The width of his chest was enormous, at least twice that of Vegeta's. He rippled with muscle under a fine layer of yellow fur. It was clear by the graceful way he moved and the bulk of his muscles he was a fighter. A warrior to the core, just like Vegeta.
“Did you want to go first?” he addressed Vegeta, never breaking his gaze away from her. His voice had a chummy looseness to it which made her skin crawl. It was very clear by his relaxed stance and his careless demeanor raping women was normal activity for him. And apparently, he wasn't above sharing.
“How generous of you.”
Bulma ripped her eyes away from Thorn to stare at Vegeta. He was standing in the corner, loosely holding his arms at his sides. He wasn't looking at her. Instead he was staring very intently at their new cellmate, his black eyes hard as onyx. His calmness made her afraid. Very afraid.
She scooted back on the cot, wedging herself into the corner. For one very real moment, she wasn't sure if Vegeta was going to help her. The man standing in the middle of the room was a goliath. He topped Vegeta by at least three feet and with the collar on, Vegeta had only the strength of a man. Surely he hadn't the power to go up against such an adversary. Why would he? Why would he risk spilling his own blood to save her? He didn't even like her. Like he said before, he was not the friendly sort.
“Yah. Well, you know.” Thorn shrugged, his huge shoulders rippling. “My folks taught me to share.” Thorn grinned again, this time revealing a row of thin, razor-sharp fangs. They flashed menacing under the light.
“Really? I received a different edification.” Vegeta spread his hands, bracing his fingertips on the walls behind him. He leaned back nonchalantly, swaying his weight between his heels and toes.
Thorn shifted to face him, seemingly realizing the other man in the room might pose a threat to his expected entertainment. He crossed his arms over his chest, smirking down at the underwhelming male.
Bulma curled up tighter on the mattress, tucking her nose between her knees so only her eyes were visible under the fall of her blue bangs. She could feel darkness swell in the room. She knew something horrible was about to happen. It was like watching a child run out into traffic. Horror stopped your heart, but you couldn't scream for help.
“Oh? What was that?”
Vegeta smiled up at him, the darkness in the room shadowing his face. All Bulma could see was the flashing ivory of his teeth and the cold death in his black eyes.
“All I survey is mine. Kill any who try to take it. Even that which I don't want. This is what it is to rule as a Saiyan.”
Thorn chuckled, arms still carelessly crossed. “Those are some pretty big words coming from such a little guy.”
“Vegeta,” Bulma whispered when his wicked grin sharpened.
He was moving before she finished speaking. Instead of leaping forward, he crabbed up the adjoining walls with incredible agility. Once he had the advantage of higher ground, he sprang at his opponent with lightning speed.
Bulma watched in awe as he flew through the air, his tail unwinding behind him for balance. His fist connected solidly with the side of Thorn's head with a sharp crack, making her cringe. The velocity of his body knocked them both to the ground in a heap of flailing fists and animalistic snarls. Vegeta straddled Thorn, pummeling him with half a dozen solid blows to the face. Bulma heard something crack, and blood exploded from Thorn's nose. She gagged, covering her mouth, but she couldn't look away.
Thorn redirected the last punch, throwing Vegeta off balance. He tried to correct himself, but it was too late. Thorn used Vegeta's own momentum to buck him off into the wall with such force it dented the metal. Still prone on the floor, Thorn spun around on his hindquarters, drew back both of his wide feet and kicked Vegeta square in the chest, ramming him again and again against the wall. The blows rocked Vegeta, and the back of his skull cracked against the wall, dazing him. Thorn saw his opening and reared up on his knees, swooping down to punch Vegeta in the face.
Vegeta recovered much faster than Bulma would have thought possible. He kicked himself off the wall, sliding under Thorn's defenses and tackling him in the gut. They fell together to the floor, wrestling for the dominate position. Thorn's blood spilt over the metal floor, making the shiny surface too slick for either man to find purchase. Thorn kicked Vegeta in his already seriously abused ribs, sliding him across the floor, out of reach. Thorn chased after him, wrapping his thickly muscled arm around Vegeta's throat from behind.
Bulma cowered in the corner, helpless and scared. Even though the battle raging in front of her was ki-less, their sheer physical power was overwhelming. She had no weapon to help Vegeta and she knew she would only make things worse if she tried.
Vegeta's face flushed red, and Bulma burst into terrified tears. She was afraid of what Thorn was going to do to her if he won, but she was even more frightened for Vegeta. Despite his murderous attitude he had done nothing to harm her. He even went so far as to protect her. Whether he liked it or not, she considered him a friend, and she just couldn't let another friend die.
“Hey, Furface.” Bulma extend her legs off the cot, bracing her weight back on her elbows as she called out. She took a deep breath, tears spilling down her cheeks and opened her legs as wide as she could. “Wanna fuck?”
Thorn's head shot up to look at her. Her stomached heaved as he lustily scanned down her naked body, taking in every precious, exposed inch of her. As horrible as it was to have him looking at her, it wasn't nearly as terrible is the look of absolute fury in Vegeta's black eyes. She swallowed hard, losing herself in his gaze.
Thorn's arm relaxed in shock, giving Vegeta just enough room to maneuver. Still staring into her eyes, Vegeta rammed his elbow into Thorn's lower gut, thrusting him back and up. He coughed blood over Vegeta shoulder, splattering some on his tan cheek. With his hand on Thorn's wrist, Vegeta spun around, twisting his enemy's arm.
Suddenly, released from the hold of his eyes, Bulma was able to breathe. She watched the fine play of muscles on Vegeta's back as he placed his palm flat on the back of Thorn's elbow and pushed. A loud, hideous snap echoed in the room and Thorn roared at the ceiling, trying to leverage himself around to reach Vegeta.
It was too late. Thorn had lost. Everyone in the room knew it, including him. Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, and curled back up on the cot, so she wouldn't see what was happening next. It was worse with her eyes closed. She could hear the repetitive meaty thwack of flesh slamming against flesh, of skull cracking against metal. Vegeta grunted with the force of every blow he delivered, barely disguising the gurgling sounds of Thorn's tortured breathing.
The wet-sucking sounds faded away, leaving only the pounding of fists, echoing through the tiny room for eternity. Finally, that too faded. The only sounds left were Vegeta's heavy breathing and her soft sobs. Bulma lifted her heavy, wet lashes, afraid of what she was going to see. Vegeta straightened over the carnage, his bronze skin painted a rusty-red. Thorn was a bloody mess on the floor, his face an unrecognizable mass of raw meat. Bright, ruby blood was pooling across the silver floor and glistening jewel-like on the walls.
Vegeta looked like a monster. His fists and arms were red. His face was splattered with crimson droplets, and his chest had dark smears across his pectorals. He glanced her way, but she squeezed her eyes shut again. She didn't want to see the murderous rage in his eyes—the evil when he looked at her.
“What? Now, you can't bear to look at me? Can't stand to see a real monster?” he snarled. His fury and hate burned through her gut, slashing her heart with their acidy truth. She didn't want to see him this way. She didn't want to see the darkness surrounding him. How it poured out of his eyes. Death followed him wherever he went. A dark shadow of hate. She didn't want to see it, but it didn't mean she didn't know it was there.
He stalked over to the sink, turning on the water. He washed his face and chest first, before trying to scrub his hands the best he could without soap. His tensed when Bulma crept up beside him. She was wearing Thorn's discarded shirt. The soft material clung to every curve of her body, ending just below the crease of her ass. Slowly, she covered his hands with her own, gently washing away the pink swirls of blood down the drain. She paid special attention to his split knuckles, and beneath his nails. He stood next to her, stock-still, watching her pale hands sliding over his dark ones.
“Not a lot of people understand there is darkness in the universe.” Her voice was tiny, nearly insubstantial, but Vegeta strained to hear every word. His muscles rippled under her touch. His breathing eased as her fingers curled around his. “Things have to be done to protect yourself and others--things have to be done to win. Not-so-nice things. Some believe if you just win the battle then the fight is over. We try to banish the darkness with laughter or jokes. Or fill the silence with the sound of our voices, but only the truly courageous acknowledge the shadows at the edge of the light. I would be a fool to condemn you for saving me.”
She turned off the water, and dried his hands with the hem of her shirt. She didn't look up at him, just tended his hands while he stared at the crown of her head.
“Thank you, Vegeta,” she whispered quietly.
His hands dried, she turned away. She kept her head down, her eyes averted from the body in the middle of the floor. She returned to the cot, curling away from him. He could hear her crying, and for once he couldn't blame her. Acknowledging the darkness was as hard as being swallowed by it whole.
Chapter 6
Chapter 8

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