Hi guys! Here is the new chapter 😊

I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a happy new year. I hope you had a great time with your family and friends and that the next year is filled with happiness!

As for our story, I really took pleasure in prolonging this slow burn, before B and V really can't take it anymore... it won't be long I promise. I also pictured a moment of complicity, which, as you probably know, will slowly evolve into an alliance!

Enjoy! xx

Chapter 15 – Bulma

"Vegeta."

Bulma turned over in her bed once more.

"It's my name."

She ran a hand through her hair and pulled on it, as if trying to get out of her head what was keeping her from sleeping.

"My name is Vegeta."

His deep voice was echoing constantly. A simple sentence, whispered on the tips of her lips, which she remembered over and over. Which haunted her, obsessed her. This name he had finally agreed to tell and which reminded her of the delicious thrill that had run through her entire body.

"Vegeta."

Bulma turned onto her back with a sigh and stared at the ceiling of her room. How could words so simple, so harmless, deprive her of her precious sleep? How could a man she barely knew, and whose attitude so repulsive, disturb her to this extent?

She remembered this unwavering urge to kiss him, just after he had said his name. He had been so close. Their mouths brushing deliciously, the flavor of his breath flying across her tongue at each inspiration. It would have been so easy to press her lips to his and initiate the impulsive, passionate kiss she had been imagining since she laid her head on her pillow. He wouldn't have pushed her away. She was sure of it. He was the one who did the first steps after all. He who had let himself be won over and who had leaned towards her to smell the skin of her neck without any embarrassment.

He had stopped and left her the choice of covering the last few millimeters separating them. And, despite the temptation to let herself be carried away by her desires, in a rush of fear and reason, it was she who had chosen to run away. She, who had suddenly turned away, and who had fled without even looking at him.

She then found refuge in the restroom of the medical unit to regain her senses. Disturbed like a teenager who had just met her first love, she had gone to hide to take control over the volcano of emotions that was threatening to explode.

But now, lying in her bed and deprived of sleep for more than two hours, Bulma bitterly regretted her defection.

She had spent the day working hard. On the regeneration chambers, which already had no more secrets to her. On the other patients, who came and go regularly to have minor injuries treated. On the medical equipment, which she had carefully sterilized. All this, while making sure to stay well away from the curtains that surrounded HIS bed. All day, Bulma had made sure to keep herself busy with something other than the burning desire to go find him and pick up where she had left him languishing.

And it had been effective.

Until now.

Lying on this uncomfortable mattress, alone under the thin blankets provided by the Imperial service, in this cold and dark room since the start of the curfew, she regretted not having let herself go. She missed the warmth of his mouth. She missed the flavor of his skin. She missed the tenor of his voice in her neck, the memory of which drove her crazy. On several occasions, she even had to fight against the idea of slipping her hand under her pajamas, imagining herself being warmed up by his burning lips wandering all over her body, while he held her prisoner between his enormous biceps, lifting her with ease.

But each time, reason curbed her desires.

He was a bad man. Arrogance and violence stuck to his skin the same way his scars did. Bulma may have had a thing for bad boys, but this one was off limits. Yamcha had been a thief, a petty thug with a rebellious streak who had been easily brought back on the right path. He had nothing to do with this merciless mercenary who killed for lunch! This Saiyan hadn't even grown up on Earth. All this viciousness was innate and he was beyond repair.

This guy certainly wasn't worth all these upheavals. And especially not a wasted night of sleep!

Frustrated, Bulma quickly pushed back her blanket and got to her feet. She absolutely had to stop thinking about that stupid alien. Her fertile imagination only embellished reality, and he didn't deserve a smart young woman like her to spend her nights lusting after him.

Hoping that a shower would wash away all these useless fantasies, she headed towards the small cubicle in the corner of the room. She took off her pajamas and stood under the jets. A curse escaped her mouth as the cold water began to trickle down her body.

Damn Frieza!

Although the temperature shock would surely help her regain her senses, the cold shower was not her choice here.

Bulma started the next day with optimism. The night had been short, but the hours of sleep she had managed to accumulate had been restorative. It was with confidence that she got out of bed that morning, and wolfed down the puree and dry bread that had been served to her.

The terrible mood that had followed her since she arrived on the spaceship was beginning to fade. It had been three days since she left the hostage common room and was separated from Chi-Chi. Until now, the living conditions among Frieza's troops were not as abominable as she would have imagined. Her room was boringly sober and not very welcoming, but it offered all the amenities for a decent life. The food was strange, bland and unappetizing, but the portions were sufficient and were served directly to her door in the morning and evening, while she received her lunch at the medical unit. Her duties, although not entirely in line with her interests, was quite stimulating. In addition to treating the wounded, Bulma discovered with curiosity a range of technologies that were previously unknown to her. The regeneration chambers, for example, which she had rushed to study with more attention than necessary, provided her with an interesting intellectual challenge.

But despite all the amenities the ship offered, Bulma had no intention of standing idly by and playing victim. She wanted to return to Earth's comfort as quickly as possible, and although she knew it would be impossible for her to escape without any help, she had already begun to gather useful information in a possible rebellion. To do so, she needed to focus on studying her surroundings and avoid attracting attention.

This meant she had to keep distractions to a minimum. And that she had to quickly take care of the most distracting patient of the lot.

It was with a firm and determined step that Bulma entered the medical unit and headed towards the back of the room, where the white curtains were still closed. Arriving there, she opened one on the fly, which she took care not to close. She really wanted to avoid plunging them into an intimacy that could induce any misbehavior.

He was there. Lying on his bed, arms resting on his chest, head turned towards the porthole which gave a spectacular view of the Milky Way. His flame-shaped hair still stood proudly on his head. His eyes were closed, but judging by his breathing pattern, he was not sleeping.

Bulma swallowed hard when she saw him. He was shirtless, his lower body covered by a light white sheet.

Fuck. Even wounded like he was, he was hot.

She approached him with slow steps.

"Good morning." she said in a slightly hesitant voice.

He lazily turned his head towards her. He opened his eyes for a few seconds before closing them immediately.

Not a single word came out of his mouth.

His tanned skin was paler than the day before. Strangely, he didn't look very well.

"How are you today?" she asked candidly.

"Leave me alone." she heard him growl.

She frowned and did the exact opposite of what he had just ordered.

"I have to change your bandages." she said flatly, grabbing a tray from the medical cart.

"Humm…" he said evasively.

Bulma placed the tray at his bedside and began to provide him with the necessary care as automatically as possible. The gap between her eyebrows widened. She had imagined a range of reactions after what had happened between them the day before, but this passivity was not one of them.

The Saiyan was strangely nonchalant. Even lethargic.

Something was wrong.

In a burst of worry, Bulma forgot her resolutions and placed her hand on his bare shoulder. As soon as their skins made contact, the connections in her brain began to short-circuit. She wanted to retract, but he was faster.

He quickly pulled his shoulder out from under her hand and began to growl.

"Don't touch me," he said without even opening his eyes.

Bulma's concerns took precedence over her dismay.

"Something's wrong." she said. "You were a lot more responsive than that yesterday morning. Where did your bad temper go?"

The Saiyan's mouth stretched vaguely and she wondered what kind of sick thought could amuse him. Absently, she saw one of his hands slide towards his stomach.

And she suddenly realized what was tormenting him.

It was the beginning of the second part of his ordeal.

"It's been three days since you ate anything." she said simply. "You must be hungry."

"Humm…" he said weakly.

Having rubbed shoulders closely with Goku, she knew the effects of fasting on Saiyans and knew full well that they very poorly tolerated being deprived of food. Frieza knew it too, obviously.

Fucking lizard!

"What the hell did you do to make him so angry?" she asked through her teeth.

The man smiled once again. His tail hit the mattress limply as he grumbled incomprehensible words. Bulma bit the inside of her lip and began methodically changing his bandages. Resolutions or not, bad temper or not, she had great difficulty remaining passive when confronted to this torture, which she considered completely useless.

That's why when lunchtime came, after her morning routine, she couldn't help but steal a piece of meat from her plate. Once her plate was emptied, she apologized to her colleagues and left the small cafeteria to sneak towards the Saiyan's bed.

She had to take advantage of the lull moment lunchtime provided her to avoid being spotted.

"You already changed my bandages today." said the Saiyan's rough voice when he saw her appear. "What do you want?"

This time, Bulma took care to draw the curtain behind her.

"You shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you." she retorted coldly, handing him the piece of yellowish meat that she had ignored during her meal.

He opened his eyes and looked at her sideways. She had his attention. His black pupils rested first on her face before sliding towards what she held in her hand.

Bulma couldn't help but suppress the smile that appeared on her lips. Seeing his reaction to a small piece of meat confirmed the kinship he shared with Goku.

"Frieza ordered that I... "

"I don't care what he says." she interrupted quickly. "You should eat."

The Saiyan narrowed his eyes to show his distrust. She sighed deeply, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

"I'm not going to poison you." she said, moving a little closer. "I know the color is weird, but apparently the meat is yellow and it's normal here."

"That's not it." he said dryly. "I would know if you tried to poison me."

"Oh?" she replied, tilting her head to the side, surprised and curious at the same time. "Your nose is very sensitive if it allows you to…"

This time, it was he who cut her off.

"You already broke the rules when you drugged me, the first day." he asserted in an accusatory tone.

Bulma opened her eyes wide. She was certain that the Saiyan's state of consciousness would not allow him to remember the opioid injection she had given him. She had taken lots of precautions to avoid anyone noticing she had tampered the security network and surveillance cameras to obtain the prohibited substance. She was certain that no one else knew about her crime.

That he remembered this detail surprised her.

"And now you're giving me food." he added. "These are orders from Frieza, I shall remind you. It's risky to disobey him, Human. Why are you doing this?"

"I thought you wouldn't be aware of it. You were squirming all over the place." she justified herself firmly. "I was simply incapable of caring for someone suffering so much. Just like I am incapable of being passive in front of a starving living being. Even if it's someone as unpleasant as you and that the idea of leaving you rot alone is tempting."

He frowned.

"I already told you. I don't need anyone's help. I don't need to be drugged, and I will survive even if I don't eat for these eight days. I do not have…"

"Oh I get it, tough guy." she retorted, raising her chin.

Frustrated, Bulma grabbed Vegeta's wrist and shoved the piece of meat into his hand. Unable to ignore the shiver the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers gave her, she took a step away to put more distance between them.

Her morning resolutions weren't going to last long if she continued like this.

"Then, you should tell yourself that I'm not doing this to help you, but because I really don't give a damn about Frieza's orders, and it's my pleasure to deviate from it! You can tell yourself that I'm doing it out of pure selfishness, if it helps you sleep at night!"

The young woman turned on her heel and walked with a firm step towards the curtain, ready to bow out. However, she was stopped before she could slip away.

"Bulma." the Saiyan's voice whispered insistently.

She was tempted to ignore him, but her instinct made her stop abruptly when she heard her name slip off his tongue. She turned her head to look at him sideways, aware that her cheeks were burning again and that he would notice if she faced him.

"You should be more careful." he whispered, threateningly. "I am a soldier, a faithful member of the Imperial army. You should be careful of what you say in front of me. I might be tempted to report you to Frieza."

She saw a glint of amusement cross his dark eyes. His mouth stretched into an arrogant grin.

"You know what the emperor does to those who rebel against his authority."

Slowly, she saw him bring the piece of meat to his mouth, which he bit into before chewing it copiously. The young woman, unimpressed by his warnings, couldn't help but smile back. Even if the sentence he had just uttered had been filled with threats, something told her he would not denounce her words of revolt.

Strangely, she trusted this man who, clearly, was not at all lenient.

That, and she knew very well how to read between the lines.

With a knowing smile on her lips, her heart beating wildly in her chest, she turned around to face him. She ran her eyes over the warrior's battered body to highlight the presence of his wounds, then locked her blue gaze into his.

"Clearly, you are well aware of that. Right Vegeta?" she concluded before disappearing behind the curtain.

She didn't miss his widening smile before returning to work.