Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ

Chapter Eleven

One kiss, a thousand deaths

Bulma retreated to her room, choking back the tears. She shed her ragged clothes as she walked through her living quarters on her way to the bathroom. She reached the shower and turned on the water, barely waiting for it to heat up before she stepped inside. As the water cascaded down over her shoulders, the tears that she could no longer hold back poured from her eyes. The salty liquid mingled with the water as it was washed down the drain as though it never existed.

She tried to empty her mind, like she emptied her body of her sorrow with every sob. She tried to wash away all of the pain and anger that she felt inside that had nothing to do with the physical bruising of her body. She tried to erase the memory of that man's hands on her body, his obscene eyes that reflected her horror back at her. She tried but she failed. It was too fresh and much too hurtful. How could he? She didn't think she could hate Vegeta any more than at this moment.

She scrubbed her body until she was pink all over. She took special care to thoroughly clean the slash on her side, wary of getting an infection from the man's filthy claw. She winced as she patted it with a wash rag, determinedly ignoring the slow flow of blood that washed down the drain along with her tears. She felt the burn of razor blades again as water sluiced down her back and she bit her lip to stifle a cry. She twisted her head to the side, but she couldn't see over her shoulder.

She stepped out and dried herself carefully, her entire body aching from her rough handling. She opened the medicine cabinet, taking out the iodine and bandages she had stored in there from tending to the cut on her temple. She awkwardly smeared the brown medicine on her side, frustrated that she couldn't see clearly over her breast. She looked down at the item she had brought with her from the medical bay as she had entered the ship. It was a staple gun for suturing.

She sucked in her lower lip between her teeth and picked up the nasty looking implement, pushing all thoughts about stapling office documents from her mind. She angled her body so she could watch herself in the mirror as she used one hand to pinch the ragged edges of her wound together and wield the gun at the same time. She heard the metallic click of the jaws snapping together before she felt the sharp sting of the staple piercing her already abused flesh. She grunted in the back of her throat and bit down on her lip until she was sure she was going to draw blood. She inhaled deeply through her nose and furrowed her brow. Bravely, she repeated the painful process until her wound was closed properly and she had taped a bandage to her side.

Every time she stretched her muscles to see her wound in the mirror she could feel a throbbing burn in her back, just below her shoulder blade. She rooted around in the drawers until she found a hand held mirror that she could use to see the reflection of her back. She gasped when she saw a ring of seeping punctures marks, marring the white plane of her back. The little fuck shit had bit her! She tried to clean it, but no matter how much she twisted and turned she could not reach the wound. She finally settled on pouring iodine over her shoulder and down her back so it ran into the small holes.

When she was done she peered at her reflection. She had a cut on her temple, a split lip, a jagged wound on her side and a bite mark. She looked like a brawler. She was starting to get fed up with people hitting her. Who did they think they were anyways? Just because someone was weaker than them didn't mean they could go around bashing them. Bastards. In all of her years traveling with Goku she had never been this hurt. In fact she had always been safe.

Bulma felt a wave of homesickness wash over her and she stumbled towards her bed. She crawled under the covers, pulling the blankets up over her head and blocking out any light. She curled up into a tight ball and cried herself to sleep.

Vegeta stood over the sleeping woman, his black eyes flashing in the shadows. She was sprawled out on her back, her arms flung wide, completely oblivious to everything around her while she slept soundly. She had one long leg exposed and her pale skin shined brightly in the darkness. The blanket crept up between her thighs covering the prize that he truly coveted, but fortunately it left her entire leg, hip and most of her side bare. He noticed with no small amount of disappointment that her breasts were covered as well, but what drew his gaze was the bandage that was taped to her side.

His eyes narrowed as he gazed at the strip of white cloth, blooms of red decorating it. She must have been wounded during her struggle with the trader. His cold eyes roved over her face, noting her swollen lip and nearly healed cut on her temple. It would scar he observed and he felt something flutter inside of him.

She looked so fragile while she slept. The hate in her eyes was absent and her shrewish tongue was muted. She was the type of creature that inspired men to war, to fight to honor, protect and cherish her. To own her. Perhaps he was wrong to introduce her to the horrors of the universe. It would spoil her innocent beauty, taint her purity. Maybe that was what made her so irresistible, the fact that she knew no evil until he darkened her door.

She stirred in her sleep and her eyes fluttered open. Her wide eyes showed no wariness until they locked onto his shadowy form. As she recognized him, the fear and hate rose quickly to the surface and Vegeta felt an answering bitterness seethe inside of him. She gathered the blankets tightly to her chest, drawing her leg under the covers with her. She slowly and deliberately curled her body into a low crouch up against the head board, as if quick movements would spur him into attacking her.

He sneered in disgust at her and threw a bundle of clothes on the foot of her bed. He then tossed a rounded fruit to her, which she caught deftly. Its tempting aroma drifted to her nose and without a second thought she bit into the fruit hungrily. Its sweet juice burst into her mouth and she closed her eyes, moaning with pleasure. Vegeta felt his gut tighten at the sound and he tamped down the surge of desire.

"Get dressed and meet me in the galley." He barked, disrupting her meal. He turned on his heel and strode from the room without looking back. As he exited, Bulma couldn't stop herself from sticking her tongue out at his retreating back.

She quickly finished the fruit, licking her fingers to catch every last drop. Her stomach rumbled demandingly and she hopped out of bed. She turned on the light and sorted through the pile of clothing Vegeta had thrown on the bed. He had brought her two pairs of pants and two tops that were identical and no undergarments. She snorted in derision. Vegeta was obviously not a male who knew how to shop.

She shook out the pants and examined them with dismay. They were black, leather, low riders. The top was also black leather that was fashioned like a fitted bodice with corset strays in the back and small hooks up the front. It was definitely tight enough to work as a bra, since hers was ruined, but it was not her usual style of dress.

She slipped the pants over her bare hips, ignoring her only pair of soiled panties on the ground. She wrestled herself into the bodice, frowning as she buttoned up the front. She looked herself over in the mirror and rolled her eyes.

"I think I have seen this TV show." She muttered to herself. Strap a gun to her hip and tattoo some barb wire around her upper arm and she would be good to go. She shoved her breasts into place, noticing with a smirk that they looked bigger. The top forced her shoulders back, holding her ribs in place and improved her posture. There was no way that she was going to be able to slouch like she normally did and still breathe.

She pulled on a pair of sturdy, black boots that Vegeta had provided her, to complete the ensemble. What the hell? Did Vegeta think she was some sort of biker bitch? Black leather was nice and all, if you wanted to go out and play bad girl for the night with your boyfriend, but this was just ridicules. Plus, without any underwear she was going to chaff in these pants. Leather just doesn't breathe. She raked her fingers through her sleep tangled hair, taming it briefly, before she noticed a brush sitting on the bed as well.

She sunk down on the edge of the bed, eying the brush warily before picking it up. Vegeta getting her clothes she could understand. After all, she couldn't go around in the rags she was wearing, but she had never imagined that he would think to buy her something as frivolous as a comb. She cocked her head to the side, running her thumb along the bristles. He had obviously thought about it, which meant he had thought about her in some small way. She smiled brightly, clutching it to her chest, inanely pleased for some reason. He couldn't have made her happier if he had brought back chocolate fudge ice cream. Well, maybe that was going a little too far, but she was defiantly ecstatic.

She rushed over to the mirror, patiently pulling the comb through her tangled hair, gently working out the knots that had gnarled her hair for the last several days. She winced a couple of times as the muscles pulled the bite wound on her upper back, but she didn't stop until her hair finally flowed smoothly over her shoulders. She did one last twirl in front of the mirror and ran out of the room. Her stomach was furiously demanding more food.

Bulma rushed into the galley, her bright eyes raking over the boxes of food that were piled up against the walls. Vegeta turned away from the pantry he was stocking to watch her bounce across the room and up to the bar. His gaze was drawn to her up thrust breasts and her tightly nipped waist. He hooded his eyes before she noticed his perusal and turned his body subtly away, but cocked his head to the side so he could observe her. She instantly began to rifle through the boxes and quickly found the store of fruit that he had given her earlier. She happily crunched away while she settled herself into a chair, flashing him a pleased smile. Vegeta was momentarily dumbstruck. Why was she so happy all the sudden? She reached for another piece of fruit and Vegeta growled.

"Don't eat so quickly or you will be sick, idiot." Bulma's face fell, but she dropped the fruit and sat back in her chair. After being without food for so long she would have to pace herself or she else her stomach would rebel violently.

"Looks like you got plenty of food." Bulma chirped and Vegeta ignored her.

"Did you get water too?" He nodded subtly and Bulma smiled.

"Thanks for the clothes and brush Vegeta." He glared at her from the corner of his eye, but he didn't respond. "Although, these aren't exactly what I would pick out for myself. I mean black leather." She plucked at the bodice, winging a finely arched brow at him and a tiny smile bloomed at the corner of her bruised lips. "Is there something you're not telling me Vegeta?"

He paused in the middle of placing a box on a high shelf. He felt his lower back tighten and tingle at her words. Was she actually teasing him? Him, the mad dog killer of the universe?

He dropped his hand and looked back at her, his face completely void of his confusion. "It was either that or whore's garb. Choices were limited, woman." His words were clipped and even. He didn't expend the extra energy required for a lengthy explanation, just enough to convey his purpose. Quick and efficient, just like him. He turned to another box, pulling out more dried goods.

"Oh." She thought about what she had seen the women wearing on the planet and she decided instantly that she preferred the clothes that he had picked out. At least she was decently covered. As an additional bonus, she did kind of look like a badass and the first step to being something is looking like it. She could already feel a cocky shift in her attitude.

You didn't get me any undergarments though." Bulma wiggled uncomfortably at the thought that she wasn't wearing any panties right now. It was a strange sensation, like she was doing something bad.

"There were none." He muttered while he sorted through the food.

She frowned at him while eying the fruit in the box. Everything that Vegeta was handling was unfamiliar to her. She couldn't even read the alien writing on the side of the boxes. She wondered how she could remedy that. Somehow she didn't think that were any Japanese to alien primers floating around in the universe somewhere. She knew for certain that she could eat the fruit as it was, but everything else was completely foreign to her.

"They were out of panties?" Her voice dripped with disbelief as her fingers walked their way across the counter towards the box with the fruit.

Vegeta turned towards her, moving the box out of her reach as he leaned on the counter to look her in the eye.

"Just because your pathetic, backwards race wears undergarments, does not mean everyone else in the universe does."

She paused, half leaned over the counter, her mouth wide open at his words. "Oh." Was the only thing she could think to say.

Vegeta rolled his eyes and pushed another box towards her. "Here, put this food away and then cook us something to eat, woman."

Bulma sat back and frowned at the Saiyan in front of her. "I'll put the food away, but I'm not cooking anything. I don't even know what half that shit is."

Vegeta glowered back at her. "Figure it out."

"I can't 'figure it out'. I don't even have a cook book. Not that I could read it." She muttered to herself.

"You're the woman, so you had better figure it out, cause I want dinner in a half an hour." Vegeta stomped around the counter and towards the door.

"Listen here you chauvinist baboon. Just because I'm a woman, that does not mean I know how to cook. I am the richest woman in the world. I have three four star cooks that prepare food just for me and one world famous dessert chef. I have never even made toast for myself." She preened. "So if you want dinner in a half an hour, I suggest you cook it."

Vegeta stopped in the middle of the room and slowly turned to face her. His blank features sent a chill down her spine and she swallowed hard. He stalked up to her, pinning her up against the counter. His dark eyes flashed murderously and she was instantaneously reminded that she wasn't some super chick from TV, but a mousy scientist who didn't have the strength of a gnat.

"You will have dinner fixed by the time I get back or I just might remember that you kept me caged in a tiny cell for months. I don't think you would like it if I locked you in the dark utility closet and only let you out to change course, now would you?"

Dear Kami, no. She couldn't imagine being locked in a tight space, in the dark no less. She would go insane. The walls would close in on her. She would die from…Her eyes locked with his and she saw the darkness that resided there. Oh. She had done that to him. She had locked him up and thrown away the key and he had yet to punish her. Key word… yet. Instead, he got her clothes, food and a brush.

Bulma gulped and shook her head. "Good, now get on it woman." He spun away from her and sauntered out the room, leaving Bulma red faced. She slowly turned and eyed the kitchen, panic gurgling in her stomach.

A half an hour later the doors slid open to the galley, revealing a disaster zone. Food was dripping off the ceiling and down the cabinets. A red powder was dusted over everything in a thin film and black smoke drifted through the room. A goopy goo was boiling over on the stove, the white mush spilling over the rim of the pot and onto the surface. The remnants of burnt food littered the counters, intermingled with dirty bowls and empty containers.

Bulma stood in the center of the holocaust, a creamy substance matted in her hair and powder smudges on her cheeks and chin. She met Vegeta's gaze defiantly, but her bravado quickly disappeared under his unwavering gaze.

"I tried Vegeta, but it's impossible." She wailed forlornly, the beginning of self pitying tears forming in the corners of her eyes. The stress of the last few days, hell the last few months weighed down on her. Normally, she would have viewed this as a challenge, but she wasn't in the right frame of mind right now to accomplish the task set before her. She didn't want to be locked in the utility closet.

Vegeta made his way slowly towards her and Bulma began to wail louder. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, her shoulders drooping dejectedly. He stopped in front of her, desperately trying to prevent his lips from twitching when he saw something inedible drip off her head and onto her shoulder. He grasped her by the waist and sat her up on the counter by the sink, grabbing a damp rag.

"Quit that caterwauling woman."

As soon as she felt the burning heat of his hands on her hips, the sobs that were forming in her throat died a nasty, premature death, along with her voice. She sat stock still on the counter, suddenly very uncertain of what was going to happen.

When he turned back to her, he almost couldn't contain his laughter. She had her hands tightly clasped in her lap, her knees locked together and her big, watery, blue eyes watched him warily. She was obviously terrified of his next move.

Time to fuck with her.

He schooled his face into an implacable mask, allowing his eyes to darken into unreadable shadows. He could smell her fear as her adrenaline spiked and sweat beaded on her upper lip.

He lifted his hand, snickering silently as she flinched away. With uncharacteristic gentleness he ran the damp cloth over her cheek and down to her chin. Slowly and meticulously he cleaned the food from her face, edging closer to her with every swipe of the cloth, until he was leaning against her knees.

Although I don't believe this chapter to be a lemon, I don't want to upset anyone's delicate sensibilities. You can view the rest of this chapter on my website which you can access through my bio.

Tempest