The Princess had rejected him. It was fact that he could neither fathom nor deny. A feeling so terrible, it seemed to wallow in his stomach, fluttering painfully about and drawing strength. It felt so empty. He had left her. Just left her to wander the fearsome hallways until either she found her way or light came, either way he didn't care. He hadn't done it to be wicked, as she most likely figured. He just didn't trust himself with her.
He sighed. There was a down side to his family line. One and only one but powerful enough to conquer the bearer of it's brunt. To a demon who carried on the family line, it was powerful enough to be the ultimate ally or the supreme destroyer. It was himself. The true self that lay beneath the powerful flesh and surfaced only when needed. When the rage bubbled forth and the demon within awoke, taking over. It was the monster within and when in control, was quite simply out of control. It made the bearer completely unaware of consequences or even actions. The rage took over the host and when all needed had been acquired, lay dormant once more, despite the possible dire consequences caused. The monster had no conscience or allies when unleashed.
To Vegeta, it was a gift. A sort of secret weapon you could say. Often, he could feel the creature within, scratching at his chest, begging to be freed and reek havoc on whom-so-ever had stirred its rest. Only at times when his anger awoke, did he nearly lose himself entirely into the blackness that was the pure demon.
He had allowed it only a few times in his life. When all was said and done, not one creature existed that had lived to tell the tale. Once, he could remember awakening in a pool of blood, believing it at first to be his own, only later to find it belonged to nearly 35 angels and 27 of his own men. He couldn't even recall what had transpired, only remembering the feeling of hatred seeping into his stomach right before the darkness swelled over his black eyes. And with a sadistic smirk he had lifted himself out of the murky stream, peeling off the shards of flesh that had stuck to his armor. To this day the entire experience remained a mystery.
But now his other side was threatening to unleash itself again. That name, that dreaded name: Yamcha. The mere mention of it stirred the dragon within, taunting it with imaginary prey. He could feel its sharp talons scratching at his insides, begging to be let out..
'Only for a moment,' it claimed. 'I promise you won't be sorry.'
But he knew better.
The creature was as much dead as alive. When it overpowered the host through blind rage, it was a living breathing entity of the inhabited being. But that in itself made it dead, simply because the host was incapacitated. There was no talking to the creature. No pleading. No mercy. It was void of emotion. Whether it spoke or not, he couldn't be sure. Again, he couldn't remember a thing. But something told him it did, confessing the deepest feelings buried inside. It was a wretched curse and also, a beautiful blessing. It could save or damn you. So he denied it.
But still it stirred, the rejection its only driving force. He had to unleash some of this pent up energy that it thrived from.
Walking slowly into his enormous room, he smirked finding his outlets huddled together on his bed. They had felt him coming and we're embraced together, arms and legs bound together in a sensual tangle as they obliviously explored each other's mouth, pretending not to have noticed the dark sinister creature who had just entered the room.
He smirked watching as one of the whore's tongue slide around the other's lips, making circles. The other closed her eyes and moaned, letting her fingers glide along the crevices of the other woman. They peeped open their eyes in one swift movement and smiled seductively at him, gesturing with their fingers for him to join. He grinned even more, crossing his arms and holding his ground. He lifted his hand and made his index finger move from side to side.
"Ah ah ah… you'll have to convince me more then that." And then he lowered his gleaming eyes at them. "You'll have to make me want to come."
She had finally found her way. She had worried that she'd be forever lost in such a confusing place, but had been incredibly relieved to notice the familiar provocative paintings and nude statues. Who would have believed a stark naked picture of a man and woman engaging in fornication could warm some one's heart so much.
She still couldn't believe that bastard had left her. Just left her to roam the freezing cold hallways all night long. Creep.
But then, could she blame him?
But still.. part of her knew how angry he must have been. To be honest, her mentioning Yamcha had probably surprised her more than him. She hadn't even thought about him before she had blurted it out. And secretly, she knew that she hadn't been thinking about him at all that night. It had been the first time since her abduction that her constant thought track hadn't been consumed by memories of her love for him. And the fact that such a distraction had been Vegeta, frightened her.
She should have known better then to kiss him. What was she thinking? It was a story as old as time itself. The forbidden enchanter capturing the heart of the one denied it the most. A sort of twisted Romeo and Juliet metaphor.
The prey falling for the hunter.
It was a beautifully ironic story but did it ever end well? She couldn't recall any that did.
There was Cyprus, the mighty Angelic Queen of ancient times, that was said to have fallen in love with a lowly servant man named Brolli. But in the end, he had been slain by her father and she, in turn, drove a blade through her heart at his grave.
Also, she had learned of an ancient legend that had mentioned something to the extent of an angel falling in love with a mighty demon but nothing conclusive. She remembered the time in the old dusty library, where she had feverously gone through a faze of wanting to be an all-wise and wondrous book scholar. She had come across the myth by simple accident but found it to be fascinating. It was said that Angels and Demons were created to be one single race, a perfect one at that. But something had gone wrong and split the creation in half, the two sides as different as night and day. One blessed with a merciful heart and beautiful appearance, the other wretchedly cast down from the heavens to dwell in shame at its treacherous, stone cold heart. But as she read on, she had been drawn in by another legend.
That of the treaty. The treaty of all time, to end all wars, to end the separation of the two creations. By love and sacrifice, it would be won.
She mused with herself that it was talking about her and Vegeta. But he didn't love her, nor she him. He wouldn't sacrifice his pride enough to set aside their differences. He was a proud, arrogant King, and made no attempt to conceal what he was so proud over. She knew he'd never bend to her. Not really. She had been right you know. About his insincerity. He'd had ulterior motives all along. But how could someone so wicked have made her feel so wonderful? She had meant what she said. No one had ever given her such a gift. And she refused to erase the fact that he'd done something for her no one could ever duplicate or succeed. For a split second, she could have sworn she meant something to him.
And she had to know.. NOW!...
"Tiring out so quickly?" He taunted the panting woman, laying on the bed nearly unconscious in her bliss. She was wrapped up in a small sheet, barely covering over anything. He turned a delicious gaze to the woman at his right, who was just now recovering and ready for another go.
"Your friend 12 is a weakling, how about you number 18?" He sneered, sweat dripping from his brow, his breath came in wisps. But she was a strong one and they both knew it.
"Give it your best shot." She flirted, moving tenaciously towards him.
Taking her inviting proposition, he wrapped his arms around her, never kissing her lips but taking in her scent. He ran his fangs along her throat, taunting her further. They tumbled around the enormous bed, not even bothering to avoid the other concubine and knocking her to the floor. Vegeta could care-less. What good was she to him now anyways? He might as well exterminate her. She was useless. 18 however, presented herself as quite the delicacy, much less fragile then the other women in his harem. And so he could nearly unleash all of his previously pent up fury on her.
He bit down into her throat, just lightly enough not to break the skin, but enough to feel the scream of pleasure that ripped through her esophagus. Tangling them in the satin red sheets, she barely noticed being levitated into the air until her back was pressed tightly against the ceiling and he was grinning devilishly.
"Vegeta.. I-" She halted. She stared wide eyed at the ceiling. Wrapped in silky red sheets was the Demon King, and pinned on top of him was a blonde demon, sandwiched between him and the ceiling, much as she had been not long before. She was.. in pain. Screaming and moaning in obvious terror she had her teeth clinched and eyes shut as she seemed to be kissing his shoulder. Every tendon in his body was rippling and his breath came in sharp throaty gusts. She could have sworn she saw every vein in his rock hard arms and the muscles bulged much larger than she'd ever seen them. His strong back and shoulders tensed and relax over and over as he bore into his victim.
Looking down in shame she saw the other woman, crumpled unconscious on the floor. She covered her mouth and her cheeks blushed a deep deep red. Now she knew. And now she hated him more than ever. She couldn't even dare another look. She tore into a full-fledged run and flung open the doors, scampering outside. But he'd heard her. And the other woman had seen.
Slamming the door, Bulma ran to her bed, both embarrassed and hurt.
He was.. He was.. with some one else.
Shit. She couldn't even justify being so upset. Why should she care? She'd known all along. He never denied that he kept concubines in his room at night. But, somehow, she hadn't even put two and two together. She buried her face in her hands, desperate for tears that had been dried up. She'd cried too much today. And so she sat, huddled in the corner of her bed, ashamed at herself for being ashamed at him.
How in the hell was he going to explain this one? Now he'd done it. She'd never speak to him again. By all the stars in heaven! He'd probably traumatized her. And what exactly was he supposed to do now! Hm? Explain to her the birds and the bees! And why were they called that? What the fuck did birds and bees have to do with any of it? A sly grin graced his moisture slicked face as he walked down the hall to her room, completely and utterly dark. He sighed, unsure how exactly he was going to go about this. Not really sure why he was going about it at all.
She knew he slept with concubines. What, did she think he only used them to keep warm! Well, actually it was quite a sad possibility. He cursed heaven for bearing such a naïve and ignorant creature. Leave it to Angels to produce such an insolent breed, not even explaining to them the act of intercourse. Damn Angels. Now what was he going to do? Did it even matter? A part of him claimed that it did and that he'd better get his ass in there and give a damn good explanation. And so, clad in his silk black boxers, he charged self assuredly into her room.
And she was asleep. How the hell did she get to sleep so fast? Was she faking? She had to be. He leaned over her small form, buried beneath the covers.
"I know you're awake Angel." He whispered inches from her exposed ear.
"Go away Vegeta." She mumbled, shoving her head farther beneath the shield of covers. He sighed trying in vain to find her beneath the large black comforter.
"Woman…. I-.. Bulma.." He found a clump of bluish silver hair muddled on top of her head. "About that.. I-.."
He was rudely cut off.
"Go away Vegeta.. You smell like a whore."
His eyes widened. Had she REALLY just said that to him! The ruler of Hell? The man who held her life in his hand! Telling him to go away, like some petty little boyfriend to be ignored when she decided? Finding her arm beneath the covers, he viciously yanked her out of bed.
"Are you crazy!" He spat in between his clenched teeth. He could feel the rage seeping into his veins, pounding in his chest. The blood began to seep into his eyes, covering the white. She screamed and tried to pull away, not in stubbornness but in actual terror.
"Vegeta your eyes!" She shrieked.
Fear pertruded every part of her body.. He'd never looked like this before. She'd seen his eyes turn red before, but this was entirely different. The veins in his eyes had gathered so tightly, it appeared as if his eyes were made of blood. Just when the last of the white was being covered over, he calmed himself, the room temperature falling rapidly from nearly boiling hot, to the cold temperature it was before. Still her heart pumped rapidly in her chest and she was sure with his sensitive hearing, he was aware. What had happened?
"I don't know why you give a shit. Just wait until I give you back to your precious little Prince. Then it won't matter who I'm screwing, just as long as you're as far away from me as you can possibly be."
He actually seemed hurt (if it were possible for him to even look that way) this seemingly genuine, poorly concealed hurt.
"Vegeta .. I... I don't know what you want me to say.." she stammered gazing into his dark eyes.
"Say I have a heart." His eyes pleaded. "Say that you care for me."
Was that really what he wanted? She had never known the life he had. She'd been loved and cherished as a child. But she knew it had not been so for him. She knew no one had ever told him such things in his life. But..
But... could she?
"Say that you care for me!" he demanded. He fought his own voice, the volume threatening to crack. An odd, strained sensation pulled at him and he swallowed hard. Why couldn't she just say it? Why couldn't she lie to him?
An eternity past before she glared proudly at him.
"No Vegeta." She stated harshly. He was shocked. Her eyes darkened and she gazed deeper into his eyes. "You tell me first."
The request was simple. But would he set aside his pride to tell her what she knew at one point he must have been feeling? They had spent too much time together to deny the ties that bound them. They had been near to each other for 3 weeks. Surely he had developed something for her. But only if he had a heart. Another of his questions she couldn't answer. Because honestly, she didn't know.
His hard, cold gaze examined her sharply, cutting through her resolve. Was this how she had felt the first time she'd met him? So cold and afraid? So utterly helpless?
"Never.." he whispered in a dark voice. "I will never tell you such things."
He began to walk from the room, strutting angrily towards the large wooden doors.
"I'm not a liar." He declared, turning out the doors and leaving her.