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Bulma found herself being led to the master bedroom of the palace. Kakkarot stopped at the door and would go no further. "You're not coming with me?" she asked him.

He merely shook his head and pushed the doors open for her. After she had gone through, he closed them.

Bulma sighed and looked around the familiar room, her parents room-- well, her deceased parents rooms. Her mother had died a few years earlier and her father had recently died. According to tradition this was actually hers and Yamcha's room now; but she had never spent a night in it after her father's death, and she had no clue if Yamcha had. Not that she cared. Yamcha could sleep with every women on this planet and she wouldn't have cared. But, he did have eyes only for her. "Damn, Kane." she cursed under her breath.

"What did you say, woman?" she heard the King's dark voice from the balcony.

Vegeta stepped out of the shadows, fully outfitted in his Saiyan uniform. Bulma unconsciously held her breath at the sight of him. Now that she wasn't yelling in his face she had a clearer mind, and a good view. He wasn't small: he was compact, a big difference. His muscles moved smoothly underneath his skin, and he moved like a lava flow: smooth, direct, unstoppable-- well, at least until it hit the sea. She wondered what would stop him. But what he didn't have in stature he clearly made up for in authority. The air around him seemed to vibrate, it was alive. Every few moments she saw sparks light the air surrounding him, like lighted volcanic ash as it fell from space to the cooling black river. As he moved toward her, the air seemed to clear before him as if it too needed to obey.

Silence reigned as he moved to her, their noses almost touching. She could feel her body wanting to rebel, wanting to go weak at the knees and fall into his arms-- or at least to the floor. Gods she was happy that she still had control over herself. All the years of fending off Kane and Yamcha was being put to the test now. And she knew she was winning by a slim thread.

"What did you say, woman?" he asked again, his voice low and seductive.

"My name isn't woman, Monkey Prince." she said, taking a step back and bowing mockingly before him. She snapped her head up as she righted her body, staring straight into his dark eyes.

A few more moments of a tense silence went by. Bulma had no idea how he was going to react. He could [1] kill her, or [2] laugh it off and mock her also. He seemed to opt for [2] because he just grinned at her and turned away, making sure she got a good look at him as he walked out back to the balcony, to the shadows.

Bulma didn't know what to do. He had clearly called for her, but she couldn't figure out what he wanted. Well, actually, she could figure out what he wanted, but he didn't seem to want to force the issue. He actually seemed to think that she would come to him or something. Or maybe he just wanted to see her squirm. Well, whatever he wanted she certainly wasn't going to cater to it. She was tired of these men who continued to make her life a living hell. Gods, what did she do to deserve this?

"Is there something you want, Vegeta?" she said, her voice irritated and tired.

Her answer was silence.

"Well, if you're going to ignore me, I'm just going to go to sleep. No, I'm not going to come to you, and no, I'm not going to squirm for you either." she said, her voice more tired now than irritated.

Bulma moved across the floor to an adjacent chamber that served at the bedroom. A large portrait of her family stood next to the entrance of the room. She looked at it for a moment, tears forming at the corners of her eyes as she looked at her beautiful mother. She tore her gaze from the portrait and made her way to the standing wardrobe that stood next to another smaller, private balcony. She opened it and found her mother clothes, still clean and pressed, hanging neatly in a row. She pulled out a blue wrap, and then set herself to the task of removing her clothes and putting on the wrap. By the time she was finished, tears were leaving silver trails down her soft cheeks.

She walked out to the small balcony for a moment, gazing at the creations of her true father. "What is your plan?" she whispered. "And why me?" She closed her eyes briefly, quieting her soul. A breeze blew over her, making the wrap flutter. She opened her eyes and looked at the stars for a moment more, then made her way into the chamber, blowing out the candles and torches before she lay underneath the silky covers of her mothers bed.

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Vegeta watched the woman from the shadows as she undressed, dressed, gazed, and then laid herself down to sleep. He'd seen her tears and was a bit perplexed at why she was crying. She certainly wasn't crying because of him: she wasn't even scared of him. And he was a little disconcerted that she would cry at all in his presence. She wasn't as weak as the others and he knew that for a fact.

And what had she said to him? " . . . No, I'm not going to come to you, and no, I'm not going to squirm for you either." Her irritation seemed to flow out of her body as she spoke, and she just looked tired. Her movements afterward seemed mechanical, as if she'd done it dozens of times before, or maybe saw someone do it dozens of times.

And the tears . . . ah, he didn't know what to make of it. He'd seen people cry out of fear while they begged for mercy, and he'd seen servants cry out of fear just because it was the only way they could handle the situation; but she cried not out of fear. She cried out of . . . sorrow? pain? What?

He floated out over to the bed, careful not make any noises to wake her. She was sleeping on her right side, facing the balcony doors. The doors were still open and the starlight glowed faintly on her creamy skin. Two silvery trails had dried on her face, and her mouth was set in a grim line as she slept. Her eyes moved restlessly under their lids. No doubt she was dreaming. He reached out to touched her face with a gloved hand, and then thought better of it. Her wanted to touch her skin with his own fingers. He pulled the glove off and traced her jawline with the back of his fingers. She jerked suddenly and he recoiled in panic.

Panic? What the hell was wrong with him? This was his room now. He could do whatever he wanted, make as much noise as he deemed fit . . . he was the Supreme, after all. He growled to himself loudly, trying to convince himself of his own superiority right now. He'd let himself go, let his guard down, shaming his culture for just a moment because of what this woman caused in him.

He grabbed her wrist suddenly, the violence of it waking her from her fitful sleep. She gasped and he felt her try to pry his grip off her wrist.

"You're hurting me." she gasped.

"Do you really think I care?" he said, his words clipped and biting.

Her eyes opened wide and then they narrowed. "No, I don't." she snarled at him.

He could feel excitement coursing through his veins. She was going to fight. He grinned evilly at her and pulled her wrist so that it was positioned above her head. He went to grab her other wrist but before he could she punched him square in the face, stunning him but causing no real damage. He let go of her wrist and she rolled away from him toward the balcony. He grabbed at her, missing her but grabbing the wrap. It came undone and she yelped as she fell painfully to the floor from the whiplash she received. He barked a laugh and jumped over the bed and hauled her up from the floor, her backside facing him. He could feel his body responding as she struggled against him. He gripped her harder.

"Don't fight me. There's no way you can win." he whispered in her ear.

She went limp suddenly, as if the realization of his words finally sunk into her brain. His hold loosened a bit, but not totally; he didn't totally trust her not to do something.

And he was quite right because suddenly she dropped low, bringing her arms up at the same time and moving off to the left just a little. He was left with nothing between his hands as she pivoted quickly on her feet and elbowed him sharply in the stomach. He doubled over in surprise and then he felt her hand hit his thigh and ride all the way up. He gasped suddenly and fell to the floor, shock written all over his face.

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Bulma knew she had to act quickly. She dashed over to the wardrobe and pulled out some clothes suitable for travel along the roaring lava flows. She quickly slipped into the them and ran to the balcony. She turned back to see Vegeta getting up to his feet slowly.

"Until next time, Monkey Prince." she said loudly to him.

His head shot up and he looked at her, his eyes ready to take that challenge. "You won't get very far." he said, grinning.

"Yeah, we'll see."

She waved shortly at him and jumped off the balcony.

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