Chapter 39
She smoothed her dress and took
a deep breath before entering the crowded room, waiting for the music to be
quieted before making her entrance. The DJ cut the music and gestured her over
to the mic and she took one last breath before plunging through the crowd and
making her way to the front. Smiling breathlessly she waved at the crowd,
comprised of mostly employees and a few random friends. “Well, I think everyone
knows that I’m Bulma Briefs, so I’d just like to welcome all of you on this
wonderful evening, an evening that marks a new partnership between not only two
governments but two races and planets. Yes, this evening we’re celebrating the
manufacture of technology introduced to us by the Saiyans as well as the dawn
of a new era of intergalactic trade between the New Saiyan Empire and Capsule
Corporation. Hopefully this will be the beginning of a long and healthy trading
relationship as well as a hefty increase in all your paychecks,” she said
brightly, pausing for the whoops and laughter. “I’d also like to thank all of
you for being here tonight. Please enjoy the party!” she announced, and stepped
away from the mic. Several people congratulated her on her way back to her
parents and she nodded to them politely, shaking hands when necessary. It
seemed like forever before she found her parents again. “Whew,” she said,
looking at her parents with a smile. “Lots of people here.”
“Certainly are,” Dr. Briefs
concurred, putting an arm around his wife.
“Bulma, sweetie, you did
wonderfully,” her mother cooed, reaching out and stroking Bulma’s hair.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said with a
bashful smile, reaching out and taking the drink her father offered her.
“Bulma, you were great,” a
familiar voice said behind her, and she turned to see Yamcha and Goku smiling
at her.
“Oh, well thank you,” she said,
startled. Yamcha was still in his black polo shirt and khakis, his hair falling
over his shoulders.
“And you look lovely to boot.
That dark red suits you well,” he continued.
“Yeah, you look nice,” Goku
offered with a grin. “You must be pretty excited.”
“I am,” she said happily,
reaching forward and giving Goku a huge hug. “How neat is this? All my old
friends together again in one room. Hey, do either of you know if Krillin made
it?”
“He’s in the hallway now,” Goku
replied. “You want me to show him in?”
“That’d be great,” she said and
watched him turn and make his way through the crowd.
“This is a great party,” Yamcha
said nervously.
She looked at him out of the
corner of her eye. “Yes. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.”
“And why shouldn’t they?” he
asked. “You’ve just landed a deal that’s going to make the whole company even
more successful than before. Vegeta’s empire is a military organization, and
militaries always destroy things and need new ones. You’ve basically just set
up your great-grandkids’ retirement. Not only that but now you can steal the
technology and improve things here, like space travel. This is huge!” he said
with a laugh, putting his arm around her shoulder.
Her first instinct was to shrug
it off and walk away. She was still unsettled by his violence from weeks ago
and she had convinced herself that her earlier reaction had just been
nostalgia-driven. She hadn’t been laid in months and had never had any other
form of stress relief, and as such it would be easy to fall back into his trap
of physical comfort. “Yeah, thanks,” she said distantly.
He frowned and stood in front of
her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Now I thought we were going to have
fun tonight,” he said chidingly. “Where’s that pretty smile?”
“I don’t feel like smiling,” she
said, grouchy.
“Ow!” he said with a hiss. “I
think you’re growing spines you’re so prickly!”
“What?” she said, confused.
Yamcha put a finger to his mouth
and sucked on it as if he had cut himself. “I think you’re turning into a sea
urchin!” he gasped, eyes wide. “Maybe I should go put you in a glass of
saltwater so you don’t dry up.” He scanned the room. “Yes, at this rate you’re
a goner,” he said, turning to her with a smile and tickling her ribs.
“Yamcha,” she giggled despite
herself, smiling and recoiling from his tickling hands.
“Ah, there we go. You’re not a
sea urchin after all!” he exclaimed. “Let’s go dance and keep you loosened up
before the spines grow back.”
“You’re such a nut,” she
grumbled, still wearing a smile and reluctantly following him onto the dance
floor.
The music was loud but it felt
good to move, swaying her body back and forth in time to the beat. She put her
hands over her head and Yamcha was behind her, pressing himself to her and
running his hands up and down her sides. It felt wonderful to be touched, to
have wanting hands on her body, and she spun around, putting her hands on his
shoulders as he slid a knee between her legs so they could stand more closely
together. They swayed their hips from side to side. He snaked his arms around
her and ran his fingers up and down her spine in the privacy of the throng of
dancing people, and suddenly the song was over, fading into some sort of ballad.
Yamcha stood up sheepishly, cheeks flushed, and offered his hand. She took it
gingerly and he pulled her close to him, resting his cheek against her head as
they swayed slowly to the sweet music. “It’s been a long time,” he whispered
into her hair.
“Yes,” she murmured.
“What?” she heard Yamcha say,
and she looked up to see Radditz looming behind Yamcha and glowering.
Radditz didn’t say a word, just
pulled Yamcha out of the way and took his place as easily as breathing. Yamcha
staggered to the side and sent Bulma an offended look, his features angry and
his body attitude suggesting that he was ready to fight. She shook her head and
he sighed, dropping his shoulders a little. Another woman promptly came up to
him and asked to dance, but he waved her away and began to make his way towards
the punch bowl. Bulma sighed and looked up at Radditz, who looked back at her
with burning eyes. He was so tall that he was actually quite hard to hold on
to, but his rhythm was much better than Yamcha’s and he led her easily around
the floor, his large, calloused hand pressed against her back.
“You look beautiful,” he said to
her, his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke softly.
“Thanks,” she said, raising an
eyebrow.
“No, you’re breathtaking,” he
insisted. “You’re a gorgeous woman, Bulma.”
She blushed deeply. “I don’t
know what to say,” she said.
“Just admit it,” he said with a
small smile. “Admit that you’re enchanting.” He glanced up from her and saw his
brother giving him a huge thumbs-up signal from across the room. He had been
running this through his mind all day, thinking about what he was going to say
to her. Goku thought that tonight should be the night he asked her to consider
him for her mate, and he certainly wanted to ask her, but he wasn’t sure his
nerve would hold. Maybe if everything went smoothly. He was glad ChiChi had
taken the time to teach him how to dance, leading him slowly around the living
room and Gohan and Goku had clapped. She laughed and he looked back down at
her, smiling again when he saw her face aglow.
“You’re a great dancer,” she
said gaily. “But you’re too tall.”
He snorted a laugh. “Easy enough
to fix,” he rumbled and suddenly hefted her into the air, his arm underneath
her rear and supporting her so that her head was nearer his.
She gasped at his strength and
the feel of his huge muscles beneath the thin rayon shirt, his collarbones
sharp and his skin shining where the buttons were undone at his throat. “Wow,”
she said quietly, the words more of an exhalation than anything else. “This is
fun.”
He looked at her, his hard black
eyes softening for just a moment. “I’m glad,” he said gently.
“Bulma, I’m so grateful to you
for everything. I’m still alive because of you. You’ve done so much for me and
I would do anything to repay you. Just say the word and I’ll do anything you
ask.”
She blushed from her throat to
her forehead, coughing a little with embarrassment. He was so noble, not like
Yamcha, who was sweet but flaky. She found wasn’t afraid of Radditz at all. He
was controlled and quiet, not in the least impulsive. She gasped as he pressed
her more tightly to his chest, his large hands hot against the bare skin on her
back. Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder. It was so nice to be
held...and then the music picked up speed again. He set her down gently, a
faint expression of alarm written across his face. “What’s the matter?” she
asked.
He looked down at the floor,
embarrassed. “I don’t know how to dance to this kind of music,” he said
quietly.
She laughed and, to his
surprise, grabbed his hand. “Oh, come on. It’s easy. All you do is match your
movements to the beat and don’t worry about looking stupid. Some people dance
to this kind of music better than others, but in the end they all look pretty
dumb. Some people are just better at pulling it off, that’s all. I look stupid
when I dance.”
“You are never stupid,” he
intoned, but let her take his hands and lead him around anyway.
“Oh, whatever,” she said with a
fake growl. “See? Just move your hips like this. Okay, good. Now get closer,”
she said, and he slid his leg between hers, much as Yamcha had done. He placed
his hands on her waist and they lowered themselves into half crouches, his
thigh filling almost all the space between her legs. The soft fabric of his
pants rubbed against the bare skin of her thighs and she shuddered a bit. He
blushed for a moment, then smiled, his massive hands creeping up her back and
pulling her deeper onto his leg. She spread hers wider and let him pull her
until their pelvises were almost touching. “See? Dancing’s easy,” she said
breathlessly.
“Yes,” he said, voice husky. He
lowered his eyelids and leaned toward her, and she remembered the time out in
the rain, how nice it had felt to have his massive body pressed to hers...she
admitted it, she definitely had a thing for Saiyans. Did she want him to kiss
her? He wanted so much from her, just like Yamcha. It was almost too late; she
could start to feel his breath on her lips, and she lowered her eyelids as
well, out of instinct.
“Hey! What’s going on?” she
heard Yamcha growl, and the spell was broken. She jumped backward, putting a
foot or two of space between her and Yamcha. “Bulma, what were you doing?” he
asked, scowling.
“She was dancing with me,”
Radditz said angrily, voice lowering into the danger zone.
Yamcha scowled at Radditz and
handed Bulma some punch, keeping a glass for himself. “No way, buddy, she’s
mine,” he said. “You just keep your big hairy paws off of her.”
“I’m not anybody’s,” Bulma spat
angrily, handing her glass of punch to Radditz. “So you two have nothing to
fight over. If you’re going to be babies you can just go sit outside.” With
that she spun on her heel and stormed away, leaving them standing, bewildered,
behind her.
She pushed her way through the crowd
and found Krillin, giving him a quick dance and a few laughs before moving on.
She had always liked the little man with the shaven, shiny head. He had a good
heart and was sweet. She idly hoped he found somebody someday, but then again
she had to concentrate on herself first. She made her way to the drinks and
poured herself a glass of punch, completely forgetting that she had refused
Yamcha’s glass earlier. She downed it angrily and clutched the cup, glaring out
at the dancing mass of people and watching the colored lights whir around the
room. Stupid men. Yamcha wanted to own her, Radditz wanted to own her...she
liked the way they both looked and the way they made her feel physically, but
they weren’t a challenge. Look at the way they just let her walk away! If they
really wanted her would they let her do that? For all their talk they were both
just spineless puppy dogs, more like pets she could use than partners. She
thought back on her behavior of a few minutes previous and shuddered in
disgust, cursing her hormones. Stupid hormones, she growled to herself. She was
still berating herself when she noticed the dancing had slowed, although the
music hadn’t, and many heads were turned towards the main entrance to the large
room. She turned her head that way as well, her eyes widening at what she saw.
Zarbon and Vegeta stood there, breathtaking. Zarbon had his long, silky green
hair pulled back in a simple ponytail and wore a plain, untucked white cotton
dress shirt, unbuttoned low enough that a good portion of his muscular chest
and smooth blue skin was revealed, the sleeves rolled up to expose his rippling
forearms and his hands tucked into the pockets of a pair of black dress pants.
His shoes were shiny and lug-soled, and he wore no jewelry except for the
silver and pink balls that always hung from his ears. Women all around the room
began to titter and he flashed a brilliant white smile, winking with his golden
gaze scanning the crowd. Vegeta stood beside him, not as exotic but just as
handsome. The Saiyan was wearing a pair of dark khaki pants, the cuffs
stylishly folded above his lug-soled oxfords. He also had his hands in his
pockets, his dark hair flaring crazily into the air, but what made his
appearance was the shirt he wore. It was one of those summer sweaters, knitted
out of cotton or some other lightweight material, with short, tight sleeves and
a v-neck. The dark blue of the shirt accentuated his tanned skin and his black
eyes burned as they scanned the room, stopping for a moment as they saw her,
then silently moving on in his expressionless face. Her breath caught in her
chest and she swallowed, clutching her glass even tighter. She watched as he
turned and exchanged a few words with Zarbon, then the two disappeared into the
crowd, leaving her standing, wide-eyed, mind dwelling on Vegeta’s sharp
collarbones and the small bit of chest visible in the v of his shirt. Smacking
herself mentally she turned back to the crowd, seeing Radditz moving toward her
through the pack. He was easy to spot, being almost a head taller than everyone
else, that massive mane of hair trailing behind him. His face was severe as he
fixed his gaze upon her, and she felt uncomfortable, wishing that she could
escape. Nothing occurred to her, however, and before she knew it he was upon
her, clasping her hand. “Shall we dance again?” he asked, just the slightest
suggestion of nerves at the edges of his voice.
“Uh, sure,” she replied
uneasily, setting her cup down on the table and scanning for Yamcha. It was
another slow song, but this time he crouched instead of picking her up. A
motion at the edge of her vision caught her attention and she saw that his tail
had uncurled from around his waist and was slowly waving back and forth. They
had worked their way up near the DJ again, and she saw with surprise that
Zarbon was there, whispering in the DJ’s ear. The DJ smiled and the music
suddenly changed, and she looked up at Radditz to see an aggrieved look on his
face. Zarbon was moving through the crowd again, his smile brilliant. He waved
at people in the crowd, winking at a few, and then suddenly grabbed an
attractive woman from the throng. Bulma suddenly recognized the music as an
older ballroom-type dance tune. She watched as Zarbon and the woman simply
swayed to the beat for a few moments, Zarbon’s eyes turned to the upper right
corner as he seemingly analyzed the tempo. Suddenly the pair spun into action,
Zarbon’s movements clean and perfect as he swung the woman around, his eyes
locked onto her and a crafty smile winding across his face. Bulma gasped as he
seemed to materialize out of nowhere right in front of the woman and grabbed
her around the waist, suddenly tossing her into the air and catching her as she
came down. He grabbed her hand and held her out at arm’s length, their arms
stretched and they pranced in a circle, Zarbon making little gestures in the
air with his free hand. Then he made a snapping motion with his arm and the
woman spun into his embrace, only to be slid under Zarbon between his legs. He
pulled again and the woman popped into the air, laughing. The rest of the
dancers had stopped and moved to the sides, and Bulma saw that all their mouths
were hanging wide open. Suddenly she felt another presence behind her and she
turned to see Vegeta pushing Radditz away from her.
“Are you ready?” Vegeta
whispered, standing next to her but not looking at her.
She stared at him, her eyes
widening and her pulse quickening. “For what?” she asked nervously.
“We’ll show them who’s the
best,” he snarled, his gaze still fixed on the pair on the dance floor.
She heard Radditz growling
behind them but was too curious to pay him any attention. “We?”
“Yes,” Vegeta snapped. “I lead,
you follow.”
“Uh, okay,” she said said with
alarm. She had taken ballroom dance lessons in college, not to mention thirteen
years of ballet from preschool up to high school, but Yamcha had never wanted
to ballroom dance, and so she was not confident that she would remember the
steps even if she was sure of her grace. “I just want you to know that I’m not
sure this is a good idea...”
“We will be the best,” he
snarled, grabbing her hand roughly.
The blood rushed to her cheeks
as she felt his strong hand wrapped around hers, larger than hers and rough but
not as calloused as Radditz’s. “All right,” she said breathlessly, swept up by
his confidence, and watched Zarbon toss the woman into the air, catching her as
she came down and dipping her, his nose a fraction of an inch away from hers,
just as the music ended. She turned to see Vegeta glance at the DJ and nod. The
clatter of CDs reached her ears and as the CD tray snapped shut Vegeta prowled
out onto the dance floor with her in tow. The music began and she recognized it
as a tango. What was she doing? She couldn’t tango!
“Don’t tense up,” he whispered into
her ear, putting his hand between her shoulder blades, his eyes suddenly upon
her, their black depths burning. “You must be relaxed if we’re going to pull
this off.”
“Sorry,” she murmured, and
watched as he synchronized himself with the beat. The song started off slowly,
the pressure between her shoulder blades guiding her smoothly across the floor.
He inched closer with every step, and suddenly he dipped her, pressing her
against his rock-hard thighs and impossibly taut stomach. She gasped and he pulled
her upright, their bodies suddenly so close that her nose was only a
quarter-inch from his. Her cheeks flamed but she couldn’t look away, fascinated
by the way the shadows fought in his eyes, fire fighting death. Then he whipped
her away and they began to dance in earnest as the music picked up speed. She
was hardly aware of what they were doing, she only knew his hands cued her to
turn and step and come to him, and she danced as if she was in a trance. He
grabbed her hands and slid her onto the floor with one smooth motion, walked
over her, then launched her into the air and caught her on his back. She began
to be dimly aware of applause in the room and suddenly she felt something in
her catch fire. She would help Vegeta win the hearts of the crowd away from
Zarbon and his lady friend. Pointing her toe, she extended her leg into the air
and tilted her head back, showing her throat. His muscles flexed beneath her
and she was in the air again, him catching her like a child and spinning in
rapid circles before grabbing her armpit and leg and dipping her head towards
the ground. She extended her arm and let her fingers flow through the air, and
when he set her down in front of him once again she saw a tiny, satisfied smile
on his sculpted mouth.
“Now more,” he said
passionately, and began to force her to move backwards, their legs a blurring
tangle as the music thundered away madly. She found that she was almost able to
see what he wanted in her head, and as the music reached its crescendo she felt
a sudden heat in her mind and reached out to take it...and the song was over.
He had her dipped so low that the back of her head was only inches from the
floor and he was holding them up with one leg, bent deeply, with the other
extended behind him on the floor. He was so low he was nearly in the splits,
and she marveled at his strength and flexibility. She had her arms around his
muscular neck, her chest rising and falling rapidly with the exertion of the
dance, her nose less than an inch from his. The crowd thundered away all around
them, Zarbon’s musical laugh the loudest of all. Vegeta suddenly closed his
eyes and moved his head closer, brushing the side of her nose with his before
bringing them both back up to standing. She rested the palms of her hands
against his chest breathlessly, gazing into his eyes. His black orbs seemed to
suck up all the light from around them, and then she realized he was pale and
slightly shaking, his tail wound around her waist. He reclaimed his tail and
wrapped it around his own midsection, cinching it convulsively and staring at
her as if she had grown eight foot long fangs.
“Don’t let go,” she surprised
herself by whispering. “Let’s get something to drink.”
He didn’t reply but didn’t let
go of her hand either, moving through the crowd and sending threatening glances
as those who blocked his way. The people parted for him like a river and she
had to trot to keep up with him.
“Hey, I’m wearing heels, you
know,” she said, irritated, and then they were at the punch bowl. He stared down
at their still-clasped hands and let her go roughly, pouring two cups and
handing her one. “Thanks,” she mumbled, downed the liquid, and handed the cup
back to him. He had finished his as well and refilled them, repeating the
procedure two more times before they were finished. She nodded thanks and
murmured appreciation as people came up to them and praised them, Vegeta just
staring straight ahead with that menacing scowl plastered on his face. The
music had started again, a nice slow song, and she gently took his cup from him
and set it on the table.
“What are you doing?” he
snapped.
“It was empty,” she replied.
“Let’s dance.”
“What?”
She sighed and grabbed his hand,
towing him back onto the dance floor. She took his hands and placed them on her
waist and wrapped her arms around his neck, rolling her eyes as he stood there
without moving. “I said let’s dance,” she said sharply. “Now just rock back and
forth to the music, like everyone else.” His eyes quickly scanned the people
around them and after a moment they began to dance. She found she had to look
up into his eyes, which surprised her. She hadn’t figured he was taller than
she was, but there he stood, just an inch or so higher. His arms seemed to
gradually pull her closer, so gradually, in fact, that she didn’t notice how
close they were until she realized she was pressed up against the entire length
of his hard body. She sighed and leaned her head back so she could look into
his face. He blushed and looked away angrily. “That last dance was spectacular,”
she said. “Where did you learn how to do that?”
“That type of music has a beat
similar to something we had on Vejiitasei when I was a little boy,” he said,
deep voice tight. “As the prince I was required to learn such things, then had
time to perfect them later on at Freeza’s courtly parties.”
“Well, it was very good,” she
replied. “You’re the best dance partner I’ve ever had in my life.”
He snorted, his eyes traveling
down to meet hers. “I’m not surprised. You haven’t had much to work with,” he
said gruffly.
She laughed and watched his eyes
grow fractionally wider as if he were surprised by her reaction. “You’re
absolutely right,” she chortled, still gazing up at him. I’m not going to
let you hurt me tonight, she added to herself.
“Hmph,” was all he said in
answer, his hands shifting their grip around her waist.
She sighed and looked down at
the swell of his pecs beneath his sweater, her knees suddenly going all funny
as she thought of how gorgeous he was beneath his clothes. “You look great tonight,”
she whispered.
A wry smile crossed his lips for
a split second. “I know,” he replied, but his eyes traveled down to take her in
nonetheless.
She stared into his eyes,
searching. “Why do you have so much death in your eyes, Vegeta?” she said softly.
“And why do I get the sense that it’s your death?”
He stiffened beneath her arms
and his scowl deepened. “It’s none of your business,” he growled. “I’ve
accepted my fate.”
“Why does your fate have to
involve death?” she asked, pressing herself closer to him. “Why can’t you
live?”
“Because it’s the only way,” he
snarled quietly. “Now just shut up and stop bothering me with your useless
questions.”
She frowned but leaned her head
on his shoulder, pressing her face against his warm neck with a sigh. It felt
so nice to be held by him, she realized with surprise. It felt so right to be
pressed against this impossible, stupid, arrogant, frustrating man. No, she
couldn’t let herself feel this way. She had to remember the horrible way he
treated her. If she had to have a Saiyan she’d just have to choose Radditz. He
was nice to her, he cared about her, he would protect her. Something inside her
felt like it was being pulled in opposite directions and she tightened her arms
around his neck convulsively and accidentally made a little noise of distress.
If she wasn’t mistaken, and she couldn’t be certain, she could have sworn that
after her noise his hands tightened their grip on her and held her there, as if
they would never let go.
“Look at that,” Radditz spat in
disgust as he watched Vegeta pull Bulma onto the dance floor. “He just shoved
me aside as if he owned her and took her away!”
“Well, Radditz, she’s allowed to
do whatever she wants,” Goku said to his brother.
“But look at that!” Radditz
growled. “She didn’t even really have a choice! He dragged her out there so
fast she didn’t have time to think about it! And what’s this garbage music
they’re playing anyway?”
Goku looked at ChiChi, who
mouthed something at him. “ChiChi says it’s called tango music,” he answered.
“I think they’re pretty good.”
Radditz made a noise of
disapproval and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t care,” he rumbled.
Goku sighed and looked down at
the man at his side. “Krillin, did you see where Yamcha went?” he asked.
“Uh, no,” Krillin replied,
sipping his drink. “Do you want me to find him? Do you think something’s
wrong?”
Goku smiled crookedly, his eyes
pleading with Krillin. “Could you? He’s had a kind of rough night, I think,” he
answered.
Krillin looked at Goku with scrutiny
before replying. “Sure. I guess he’s an old friend,” he murmured.
“Thanks,” Goku said gently and
watched as the little man wound through the crowd.
“I’m going to go check on
Gohan,” ChiChi said into his ear, and he nodded, feeling her walk away.
“Well, now we’re alone,” Goku
said, looking at his brother. “So what’s on your mind?”
“It backfired, Goku. I was
supposed to ask her to consider me tonight, but now I can’t. That bastard
Vegeta has ruined everything.”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been
training for? To get him out of the way?” Goku asked, wide eyes turned on
Radditz.
Radditz cleared his throat. “Um,
well, yes,” he replied quietly.
“Well, you’re almost as strong
as me. I’m sure you’ll give him a good fight,” Goku said simply.
“You’re implying I challenge the
Prince?” Radditz said, voice shocked.
“Yeah,” Goku said. “You’ve been
planning that all along, or the fighting him part at least, right?”
“I suppose,” Radditz muttered.
“Well, challenge him for Bulma,”
Goku proposed. “Isn’t there some sort of Saiyan thing you two can do? It seems
you guys have rituals about everything else.”
“Actually, there is a
courtship-rights ritual challenge,” Radditz said, putting his fingers to his
chin and considering.
Goku sighed. “Then just do that.
Look, Vegeta and Bulma are done. Go do it now,” he said.
“I can’t. It should be done in
private,” Radditz objected.
“Fine, then,” Goku said, and the
two stood in silence for some time, watching Vegeta and Bulma move slowly
around the dance floor. They had been talking on and off, and at one point had
even pressed more closely together, when Bulma apparently asked something that
made Vegeta’s spine stiffen. Vegeta snapped something in return, the two of
them looked at each other for a long moment, and then Vegeta tore himself away
and stormed out of the room. Bulma took a few steps after him, arm extended and
face hurt, then reclaimed her arm and disappeared into the crowd.
“Now’s your chance,” Goku
whispered.
“Yes,” Radditz agreed, and left
the room as well.
Bulma, after many moments of rocking silently with Vegeta, had decided she had
dwelled on his behavior long enough and that now was as good a time as any to
clear it up. She leaned back and fixed his eyes with her clear blue stare. “Do
you hate me, Vegeta?” she asked suddenly.
“Think what you like,” he
replied roughly, but loosened his grip on her a little.
“Why do you hate me? I know you
wanted to kill me and you may still, and if you do someday I just want to know
why,” she said, searching his face.
“You really want to know?” he
snapped, and she nodded. “Fine, I’ll tell you. When you helped Radditz so very
long ago he sent me a psychic scream, one loud enough that it assaulted me on
Arlia. It was so loud inside my head that I didn’t sleep for the better part of
half a year and nearly died as a result. That was horrible, but what was worse
was every time I closed my eyes, and even sometimes when I didn’t, I would see
this pair of blue eyes. Blue eyes keeping me awake, blue eyes...I grew to hate
those damn eyes, and when I saw them in you for the first time I wanted you
dead right then and there, and I would have killed you then if circumstances
were different, if I hadn’t needed your skills. I hate those eyes even now,” he
said sharply.
Her expression didn’t change or
give any indication that his words had inflicted any wounds. “Then kill me now,
Vegeta,” she whispered, feeling his spine stiffen and his body go rigid. “You
want to die. That’s fine, you’ll die someday. But if you’re going to kill me do
it now, so at least people can say that I died happy.”
He stared at her, their bodies
still, and examined her for one long moment. “Don’t speak to me,” he snapped as
he released her roughly and stormed off through the crowd.
“Vegeta,” she called, reaching out
to stop him, then thought better of it and retrieved her hand, pressing it
against her chest. Sighing, she turned and disappeared into the throng of
dancers.
Vegeta stormed down the hallway. The nerve of that woman! So many things were
roiling inside of him; he needed to go someplace quiet and meditate to sort
them all out. A sound came from the hall up ahead, and when he rounded the
corner he saw the scarred Earth man sitting on the floor and leaning against
the wall, the bald man apparently trying to comfort him. The scarred man was
sobbing and smelled strongly of drink, blubbering away as the bald man patted
him awkwardly. Vegeta snorted in disgust and walked past. “You, you bastard!”
the scarred man shouted, pointing at him.
Vegeta stopped and turned,
looking at him with disdain. “What is it, worm?”
“You’ve ruined everything!
You’ve warped her mind!” the man cried, face red with tears.
“Yamcha, shhhh,” the bald man
said, looking up at Vegeta with fear. “Sorry, he doesn’t know what he’s
saying,” he said nervously to Vegeta.
“Hmph. No concern of mine,”
Vegeta replied coldly.
“You took her away from me!”
Yamcha howled.
Vegeta stared at him, eyes hard.
“Bulma has a mind of her own. Her mistakes are hers to make,” he said solemnly,
then moved off down the hall.
He made it outside, taking a
deep breath of night air and looking up at the stars. He needed to cool his
head, to go someplace where he could think clearly. He could still feel where
her arms had been wrapped around his neck, reminding him of the feel of her wet
skin the day of the beach, and her scent was on his clothes. Snarling in
disgust, he was about to take to the skies when he felt a hand on his shoulder,
Turning, he found himself confronted with the hulking form of Radditz. “What do
you want?” he snapped.
Radditz said nothing, simply
uncurled his tail from around his waist. Vegeta watched it suspiciously, but
was still not prepared when it suddenly lashed out and hit him across the face,
knocking him to the ground. He picked himself up and checked his mouth for
blood, then stood slowly. Radditz had just issued him the ancient challenge for
claim to mating rights. If he accepted the challenge they would fight, and the
winner would lay sole claim to the right to woo the female in question,
although the female was still free to pick whomever she liked. “Who?” Vegeta
said coldly.
“You know who,” Radditz growled,
standing his ground.
“What, that blue-haired harpy?”
Vegeta sneered, brushing the grass off his pants. “You’re actually asking me to
waste my time with her?”
“Don’t speak that way about
Bulma,” Radditz snarled. “Do you accept or not?”
Vegeta tilted his head,
considering. There was no dishonor in refusing, and he would beat Radditz to a
pulp anyway. He hated the woman, he’d be glad to be rid of her...but there was
that one thing, he realized, unable to drive the feel of her out of his mind.
Partway through the dance she had found some way into his mind, something she
shouldn’t have been able to do if she was a Saiyan, not to mention a mere
human. He pictured her with Radditz and such fury filled him that he knew he
would do it, not necessarily so he could have her, but so Radditz couldn’t.
Radditz needed to be punished for his impertinence. “Very well,” Vegeta said
coldly. “I accept. When and where?”
Radditz looked up at the sky.
“Here. In five hours.”
“That’s two a.m.,” Vegeta said.
“Correct,” Radditz replied.
“That way no one will see and we don’t have to travel far. The party is
supposed to get over at midnight.”
“I’ll see you then. Say your
prayers,” Vegeta said with a sneer, and blasted off into the night sky.
38 / Bulma’s Hideout / 40