Author's Note: Happy Belated Easter ya'll!
Don't Rightly Know
R For Violence, Language, Nudity, Sexual Content, and Adult Themes
The West has been settled and formed by a wealthy young family and now their only daughter has run off from the confines of her world, off to see the outside and escape the civilized town, into the true Wild West. Bands of outlaws and wild Indians won't be her only concern as a dangerous entrepreneur with an illegal alternate lifestyle sets his eyes on her.
Chapter Five
An elegant gown adorned her body, the pale pink offsetting her slightly tanned skin and silken blue hair perfectly. Her musty gown she had used for traveling was being washed at the moment and the flowing taffeta felt good against her.
She didn't smile as she sat down, just looked at the still silent man before her, sitting ever watchful. Self-consciously, she pulled at her skirt, rearranging it so it would fold just right as it fell to the ground. She bowed her head in grace, saying a silent prayer of thanks, and need.
Dear Kami, thank you for the luck that I have that I have not yet displeased this man, and for the comfort with which I am being treated, but, please, save me as soon as you can and do not let me stay and suffer. In your name, amen.
He was still silent, but now, as she looked up, a small grin had spread across his face, showing the white teeth that stood out so well against his dark skin. No, you wouldn't call it a grin. It was a smirk, and a snide one at that. He was obviously amused.
"Eat woman," he ordered crisply, and she did, after giving him a quick little smirk of her own.
His insolent smirk grew, and he didn't eat a bite.
Shortly, he rose from his seat, and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her up. She barely had time to swallow the small piece of bread that she had been in the middle of buttering before she was whisked out of the room.
Hurriedly, as if the building were about to burn, he led her down the hall, through numerous twists and turns, and as the sun set, the halls grew darker. There were no lamps here to light her way, and she almost tripped on the long hem of her skirt multiple times.
They reached a dead end, and Bulma took a deep breath, trying to stop the rapid intake of air before it gave her a stitch in her side. He seemed completely unfazed by the vigorous pace he had set.
"What are we—"she began, but was quickly silenced by a hand over her mouth, callous fingers pressing harshly into her skin.
His hand stayed across her lips, keeping her hushed, while his other hand deftly groped the wall, looking for the small notch. Upon finding it, he lifted up the crack, and a flight of stairs opened before them. He moved his hand from her mouth and gripped her hand roughly, dragging her up the stairs behind him.
When they reached the top, he stopped.
A dark room greeted her eyes, the setting sun allowing only the minimal amount of light to filter into the room. It was almost romantic, if it weren't for the psychopath and the tight grip on her wrist, which was bruising her fragile skin.
He led her over to the window, the only one in the room, and had her stand beside him, looking at the sprawling view before them. He still didn't say a word, and Bulma was beginning to get annoyed by his silence. He never explained anything!
The day before, he had stood in this exact same spot, watching as the woman beside him entered into his town.
"Do you see this?"
She looked at him, wondering if he was expecting a certain answer, but, unable to figure out just what he was asking for, she said yes.
"And what is it that you see?"
Still unsure of what he was asking, she gave him the basics. "I see a town, and the land beyond it. I see people going about their daily lives...It's the same as any other town. Why do you ask? Why did you bring me up here?"
"I thought."
"You thought what?!" she bit back, unhappy with his answers and the constant questions he asked. Stupid bastard. He should at least explain something. What is it that she was supposed to say? She felt like a little girl in school who had just answered wrong to the question her teacher asked, and the answer should have been obvious.
Obviously, it wasn't.
"Do not speak unless spoken to."
"I'm tired of this. I have been quiet all day and I have behaved to your liking, as far as I can tell, and I was trying to answer your question, even though it was not very clear and I don't think you are very much of a gentleman."
His cool laughter echoed in the ever darkening room.
"What's so funny? I said nothing funny."
"I never claimed to be a gentleman."
"You speak like one."
"You don't speak like a lady, madam, but I assure you, your wealth and beauty claim otherwise."
Her hand connected smoothly with his cheek, leaving its print across his skin. "Do not insult me, sir."
Quickly, she regretted her last action. He had been somewhat pleasant, if thoroughly annoying before, but now, a cold look entered his dark obsidian gaze, growing colder by the second, and the smile left his lips, leaving nothing but an icy sneer.
"You will regret that." He said, and snapping his fingers, two men appeared from nowhere, gripping her and escorting her back to her rooms. Vegeta stayed where he was, looking out at the town, and wondering how she could see no more than the surface in it.
Bulma didn't see the danger and the crime. Nor did she see the opportunity and the power, both crying out to be taken.
.............................................................................................
"Bastard!" she screamed down the hall, as soon as she was a safe distance away. "You bastard!" She tried to kick the guards, but it was worthless. They had too tight a grip on her, set too quick a pace, and were too goddamn strong. Bulma was pissed.
Yet, underneath it, a nudge of satisfaction filled her. She had slapped him, and now the score was even. One to one.
Looking at the two men who were leading her, she decided to try tears, hoping that maybe they would feel sorry for her and let her go and not be so difficult. Fake crying was a skill she had had since she was little, being a spoiled brat and all, and so it wasn't hard to manipulate anytime she needed to get what she wanted and, most always, it worked.
The salt drops welled up behind her eyes and spilled over her cheeks, the whimpering and sniffling following shortly after. She didn't do it full out, the loud, wailing kind, but just the soft self-pitying kind. It worked best. It didn't annoy people as much, and still made them feel bad.
Sure enough, the two men stopped in their tracks, looked at each other and then at her, as if they were asking one another what they should do. Bulma had to suppress her grin of triumph.
"We're mighty sorry Miss. It's just we best obey the boss or else it won't be pretty. If you come along and behave right well, we'll let you go."
Her lips parted in a dazzling smile and she curtsied in thanks to the two gentlemen, notching their faces into a private list of people inside the building that she had won over. It would be good to be on the right side of the majority of people, especially if she were to find out why she was here and how to get out anytime soon.
...................................................................................................
Don't Rightly Know
R For Violence, Language, Nudity, Sexual Content, and Adult Themes
The West has been settled and formed by a wealthy young family and now their only daughter has run off from the confines of her world, off to see the outside and escape the civilized town, into the true Wild West. Bands of outlaws and wild Indians won't be her only concern as a dangerous entrepreneur with an illegal alternate lifestyle sets his eyes on her.
Chapter Five
An elegant gown adorned her body, the pale pink offsetting her slightly tanned skin and silken blue hair perfectly. Her musty gown she had used for traveling was being washed at the moment and the flowing taffeta felt good against her.
She didn't smile as she sat down, just looked at the still silent man before her, sitting ever watchful. Self-consciously, she pulled at her skirt, rearranging it so it would fold just right as it fell to the ground. She bowed her head in grace, saying a silent prayer of thanks, and need.
Dear Kami, thank you for the luck that I have that I have not yet displeased this man, and for the comfort with which I am being treated, but, please, save me as soon as you can and do not let me stay and suffer. In your name, amen.
He was still silent, but now, as she looked up, a small grin had spread across his face, showing the white teeth that stood out so well against his dark skin. No, you wouldn't call it a grin. It was a smirk, and a snide one at that. He was obviously amused.
"Eat woman," he ordered crisply, and she did, after giving him a quick little smirk of her own.
His insolent smirk grew, and he didn't eat a bite.
Shortly, he rose from his seat, and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her up. She barely had time to swallow the small piece of bread that she had been in the middle of buttering before she was whisked out of the room.
Hurriedly, as if the building were about to burn, he led her down the hall, through numerous twists and turns, and as the sun set, the halls grew darker. There were no lamps here to light her way, and she almost tripped on the long hem of her skirt multiple times.
They reached a dead end, and Bulma took a deep breath, trying to stop the rapid intake of air before it gave her a stitch in her side. He seemed completely unfazed by the vigorous pace he had set.
"What are we—"she began, but was quickly silenced by a hand over her mouth, callous fingers pressing harshly into her skin.
His hand stayed across her lips, keeping her hushed, while his other hand deftly groped the wall, looking for the small notch. Upon finding it, he lifted up the crack, and a flight of stairs opened before them. He moved his hand from her mouth and gripped her hand roughly, dragging her up the stairs behind him.
When they reached the top, he stopped.
A dark room greeted her eyes, the setting sun allowing only the minimal amount of light to filter into the room. It was almost romantic, if it weren't for the psychopath and the tight grip on her wrist, which was bruising her fragile skin.
He led her over to the window, the only one in the room, and had her stand beside him, looking at the sprawling view before them. He still didn't say a word, and Bulma was beginning to get annoyed by his silence. He never explained anything!
The day before, he had stood in this exact same spot, watching as the woman beside him entered into his town.
"Do you see this?"
She looked at him, wondering if he was expecting a certain answer, but, unable to figure out just what he was asking for, she said yes.
"And what is it that you see?"
Still unsure of what he was asking, she gave him the basics. "I see a town, and the land beyond it. I see people going about their daily lives...It's the same as any other town. Why do you ask? Why did you bring me up here?"
"I thought."
"You thought what?!" she bit back, unhappy with his answers and the constant questions he asked. Stupid bastard. He should at least explain something. What is it that she was supposed to say? She felt like a little girl in school who had just answered wrong to the question her teacher asked, and the answer should have been obvious.
Obviously, it wasn't.
"Do not speak unless spoken to."
"I'm tired of this. I have been quiet all day and I have behaved to your liking, as far as I can tell, and I was trying to answer your question, even though it was not very clear and I don't think you are very much of a gentleman."
His cool laughter echoed in the ever darkening room.
"What's so funny? I said nothing funny."
"I never claimed to be a gentleman."
"You speak like one."
"You don't speak like a lady, madam, but I assure you, your wealth and beauty claim otherwise."
Her hand connected smoothly with his cheek, leaving its print across his skin. "Do not insult me, sir."
Quickly, she regretted her last action. He had been somewhat pleasant, if thoroughly annoying before, but now, a cold look entered his dark obsidian gaze, growing colder by the second, and the smile left his lips, leaving nothing but an icy sneer.
"You will regret that." He said, and snapping his fingers, two men appeared from nowhere, gripping her and escorting her back to her rooms. Vegeta stayed where he was, looking out at the town, and wondering how she could see no more than the surface in it.
Bulma didn't see the danger and the crime. Nor did she see the opportunity and the power, both crying out to be taken.
.............................................................................................
"Bastard!" she screamed down the hall, as soon as she was a safe distance away. "You bastard!" She tried to kick the guards, but it was worthless. They had too tight a grip on her, set too quick a pace, and were too goddamn strong. Bulma was pissed.
Yet, underneath it, a nudge of satisfaction filled her. She had slapped him, and now the score was even. One to one.
Looking at the two men who were leading her, she decided to try tears, hoping that maybe they would feel sorry for her and let her go and not be so difficult. Fake crying was a skill she had had since she was little, being a spoiled brat and all, and so it wasn't hard to manipulate anytime she needed to get what she wanted and, most always, it worked.
The salt drops welled up behind her eyes and spilled over her cheeks, the whimpering and sniffling following shortly after. She didn't do it full out, the loud, wailing kind, but just the soft self-pitying kind. It worked best. It didn't annoy people as much, and still made them feel bad.
Sure enough, the two men stopped in their tracks, looked at each other and then at her, as if they were asking one another what they should do. Bulma had to suppress her grin of triumph.
"We're mighty sorry Miss. It's just we best obey the boss or else it won't be pretty. If you come along and behave right well, we'll let you go."
Her lips parted in a dazzling smile and she curtsied in thanks to the two gentlemen, notching their faces into a private list of people inside the building that she had won over. It would be good to be on the right side of the majority of people, especially if she were to find out why she was here and how to get out anytime soon.
...................................................................................................