Chapter 1

Bulma Briefs, heir to the (unfortunately) metaphorical throne of Capsule Corporation, the Earth's most prestigious and wealthiest company, had always wanted to be a princess. She was as close as she was ever going to get, due to inherit power and riches in so great a quantity it was almost obscene; in everything but name, she was a princess. Still, the childhood dream of the glittering crown and beautiful dresses had endured somewhere in her heart until this moment. Bulma had found the handsome prince, certainly. Unfortunately for her, Vegeta was anything but charming.

"Woman!" The familiar bellow resounded through the lab. "Your machine has broken again! Fix it!"

The fragile piece of glass in Bulma's fingers, the final part of a new prototype she had spent the last four days painstakingly assembling, trembled in protest as Vegeta's roar rose in volume. The Saiyan prince stormed across the threshold and into her sanctuary and, with a last fizzle of despair, the prism shattered. She gritted her teeth as tiny slivers of glass drove themselves into the sensitive tips of her fingers; the work had been far too delicate for gloves, and she hadn't dared to entrust it to anyone else. Even her father no longer had the dexterity to do it. And her 'guest' had just obliterated four days of almost non-stop effort. Bulma's hands clenched into fists as blood appeared like freckles above the splinters.

"I've had it up to here with you, you ridiculous, arrogant, demanding monkey !" Her own voice rose to such a pitch that he flinched, his ears ringing. "That was four days worth of my time and effort, Vegeta! Four days! I don't care if the GR has broken. I don't care if you've blown in into tiny pieces. I don't even care if you've blown up half the house. Fix it yourself!"

With a final, wordless shriek of frustration and rage, the scientist bolted from the lab, fighting furiously against the stinging tears in her eyes. The company who had commissioned the prototype had issued a deadline for its initial unveiling, which expired in two days time. There was no way she could finish the damn thing by then. Not without the specialised refractory device, which the untrained ape had just broken. Four days on only a few hours snatched sleep was wearing on her, and so when she heard the familiar, brisk footsteps she swung around with scalding words already on her tongue.

Vegeta stood impassively, arms folded, as the human woman let loose. Her vitriolic insults came so thickly that they almost overlapped, and he privately admitted to being impressed by her imaginative curses. However, when she began to defile the name of his royal house with her commoner's tongue, he abruptly straightened, his arms falling to his sides as his dark eyes bore into hers. She shut up like he'd flipped a switch.

Bulma tried to swallow as he stiffened, his usually detached glare suddenly piercing her as surely as a butterfly on a pin, and icy fear trailed its hands down her spine. The words dried in her throat. She flinched back as he began to stalk towards her, his eyes on a level with her own; how was it, she thought with the cold clarity that always came to her through terror, that she always forgot he was so short? The reminder of his stature gave her back her courage, and she lifted her chin defiantly as he approached until their faces were merely inches apart.

"Do not dare to think you can revile my noble blood and get away with it, Earthling." His voice was soft, reasonable. Chilling. "If you do so again, I shall rip out your tongue and squeeze the life out of you with it. Do you understand?"

Her expression was still rebellious, but he could smell the tangy fear billowing from her in waves. He smirked as her eyes narrowed and she pressed her lips together firmly.

"I do not like having to repeat myself," he murmured silkily. Reaching out, he gripped her hand, lifting it towards him. When she struggled briefly, he exerted his strength until she gasped at the pressure. Inspecting her blood-speckled fingers, he suddenly yanked one to his lips, taking the tip into his mouth and seeking the source of her injury with his tongue. Finding it, he closed his sharp teeth down, making her whimper at the hot flash of pain. With excruciating control, he forced the glass splinter from her flesh along with another droplet of blood.

"Do you understand?" he purred, allowing her to yank her hand away.

Bulma nodded mutely, cradling her throbbing finger against her chest. "You're a complete bastard, Vegeta," she whispered, her eyes burning.

He laughed, the sound sending shivers of unease down her back, her skin crawling. Without answering, he let his lip curl in contempt and spat her blood at her feet, where it gleamed mockingly at her.

"I would not demean myself by swallowing the blood of one so base. My machine still needs fixing, woman." And, still laughing, he strode away down the hall towards his quarters.

Feeling another spike of courage, Bulma glared down at the blood on the floor before screaming after him, "You should be glad you didn't swallow it, Vegeta! I would have made sure it poisoned you!"

Hurling herself into her room, she slammed the door so hard the hinges rattled before collapsing into a sobbing heap on the floor. The look in his eyes then had been so similar to the one that had been there when he'd attacked her and Krillin on Namek, something she still had nightmares about. Shuddering, she curled her legs up to her chest, her hair falling half over her face. Gasping for air between her curses and choked sobs, she forced herself to her knees then tottered to the bathroom to clean her hands. Ignoring the biting sting of the iodine she used to disinfect the tiny wounds, she slumped wearily over the sink, exhaustion making her bones feel like lead and her head pound.

When she had dried her hands off, she made her way across the room to the bed and, without showering or changing her clothes, promptly collapsed forward onto it with boneless apathy, her eyes already closing against the light of the afternoon.