Disclaimer:….;

Tempting Death

By The Eternity Dragon

Author's note: To anyone who is still reading this, who has reviewed, faved it and put me down on your favourite authors list, thank you really, thank you! I want to apologise for the inexcusable lateness of this chapter, apologises SORRY! I don't even know if it's actually worth reading! I found my muse again cuddles Murray

Oh, he was hiding because I threatened to turn him into a doorstop XD.

Murray: You'd be hiding too if she'd threatened to stick a melting candle in your forehead! ;;

Hahah, the undead, so fickle! Anyho- I hope you enjoy this chapter, things are beginning to heat up again and I really don't actually know if it's any good- I spun it off after working with the idea for ages-L it might be dreadful…hmm, check my bio page for more details on what's to come and other relevant stuff fanfiction related-blah blah….anyway special thank you to Fadeaway wind walker (again though she's probably forgotten all about this now ; my fault!) And Android 18 who is my special person who got me into fanfiction in the first place.

Chapter 8

It had been a month, a whole entire month, four weeks, thirty one days since that rainy day, when she had been standing out on the lawn. In that long red blood coat, staring into the distance, so utterly lifeless, like a hollow shell. Since then, he had avoided her like the plague, not to say that he had run from any room she was inhabiting; he-the prince of all Sayai-jins afraid of another mortal? and not just any mortal- a woman at that. It wasn't something that bore much contemplation. But the fact was it did-it haunted him, to an extent he found it difficult to sleep at night; and his mind, when freed from the thoughts of training and becoming stronger then that idiot clown Kakkarot, trailed off, in long tributaries that spiralled into wordless thoughts that all seemed to end in the same way. They ended with her- against her dark lips, on her smooth, bloody skin, trailing in long sinuous movements down her legs, her hips, her chest, her neck. He knew that it was far from the 'distraction' he had thought it to be.

It was an obsession, an passion that he was unable to rid himself of, he could deny it to high heaven, but it didn't erase the fact that when he closed his eyes all he seemed to be able to see was her-only her. Despite the cracked mask of humanity that she seemed to wear almost constantly over her face, he had glimpsed something inside the recesses of the human shell. Something alive, something naked and raw with emotion; crouched among the shadows of its own thoughts. This thing-that had pushed him, dared him, seduced him, and punished him at the same time drew its hands above his neck and crooned to him. Pulsing with the same rhythm, the same undeniable-attraction. Is that what it was? An attraction? No, lust then- that same undeniable yearn that coursed through the both of them against their wishes. Carnal impulse and desire-that's what it was. An obsessive longing that would not leave him alone whether he was awake or asleep. He laughed at himself then, his mouth twisting up into a cruel smile that was truly humourless, was this her game then? Had she meant to do this to him? Punish him? And for what purpose?

His fingers played with the dial for the gravity settings, and a vivid flash of memory jolted through his minds eye. He saw her again, kneeling on the floor, her body tense and heaving under the strain as he pushed the dial up, her acidic glare of pure hatred and something-something else. He closed his dark eyes and tried to remember, pushing past the cobwebs of haze that lingered in the corners of his mind. There had been something else there, something he had not noticed in her before-a brief flicker in her eyes.

The rain came rattling down the windows, and the winds howled and moaned against the pane of the single window. He opened his eyes and frowned, resting his hands against the buttoned panel, he could not think, he could not remember. In a sudden rage he slammed his fist down hard into the smooth surface of the control panel, it sunk with a screech of tearing fibre through the metal frame and into the mesh of wire beneath it. Red hot pain jolted through him as his skin connected with the live raw wires, energy sliced through his brain as he wrenched his hand away, holding his wrist in a firm unyielding grip.

The lights flickered out one by one in the Grav room, transcending slowly into a ravenous darkness, he leant against the wall, his heart jumping erratically in his chest, his blood pumping deafeningly in his ears. He swore, the words thick and lingering on his arched lips, the sluggish humourless smile trailing its way across his mouth, as he sank wordlessly to the floor, his vision blurring in and out of focus. Had she won? Was he letting her win? The silence roared in his ears now, his thoughts becoming lethargic and loosing all sense in their descent to painless oblivion.

"No one will hear you scream."

The words, from the depths of his subconscious swam their way up to the forefront of his mind, they lingered for a moment, fading in and out of recognition, dipping and sliding down a spiralling staircase of memories.

"I'm thinking again," he murmured, the words toppling and dancing from his tongue, "She's getting to me-why am I letting her get to me?"

He stopped, and listened to the silence, fighting the mad desire to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation- had he gone mad?

No, in fact far from it, the jolt of electricity had temporarily blurred his mind, but his thoughts, although seeming to slip away from him like water through cupped fingers, were re-arranging themselves. New ideas, plans, actions and consequences were forming in his mind. Some half carnal, primitive beast was stirring in the recesses of his thoughts, raising its head to sniff the new air, stretching its long limber limbs. He saw her again, for a brief instant, writhing in agony on the Grav room floor- her eyes glinting, and then the expression changing-changing to….

He pressed his hands against his forehead, his brow furrowing-what was it? That look in her eye, he had recognised it then, but now the memory was gone.

"No one will hear you scream."

His wrist throbbed and the sound of the rain fell piercingly against the glass pane of the single window.

"Come on you idiot think!" he yelled into the uproar, lightening streaking through the moody sky, illuminating the room with its eerie light.

And then-through the drumming pain, the clouds of half murmured thoughts, the obsession, the carnal lust, the twist of the lips- he remembered- and then he understood. The look on her face, it was a plea- a cry of total desperation, a look he recognised, one that he had seen on his own face on those early years under Freza's regime. She had been crying out to him in silence, like she had been this entire time- against her sanity and against even perhaps her own will.

"Help me- I'm loosing myself- help me."

And he'd missed it- he had been caught up inside his own little enigma that he had completely over looked it. The game, the self harming, the carnal lust. It was all part of the same thing-a plea for help, for guidance-for…love.

But he couldn't give that to her, he couldn't give her anything like that, surely she must realise that, he wasn't capable of it, not anymore…how on earth could he save someone else, when his own soul was blistering in the eternal heat of damnation.

Love-that was something only fools did like that clown Kakkarot, he had none to give-no-there was nothing, nothing inside his soul but anger, hatred, lust and gluttony it seemed for punishment.

He didn't understand why she had chosen him as her vent, why not someone closer? But then again it was the same game that had driven her fool of a boyfriend, Yamcha away as well. His mind had been too weak and self absorbed to understand, to even begin to comprehend her feelings.

I'm falling…

Why should he shoulder any of her pain? Why would he want to heal her? Make her understand she wasn't alone-why did Miss Perfect need someone else-didn't she understand it was trusting in others that lead to these feeling of self hatred, and soul consuming rage.

It wasn't his fault-why should he help? Why should he care if she pushed him away, avoided him, and didn't look at him when they were in the same room together? And why? Why was it that when they were in the same room together, every fibre of his being ached with awareness of her.

"Why?" he yelled, standing up, his fingers clenching into fists and crashing into the hard density of the wall.

"Damn it to hell! Why can't I forget?"

"Don't you think, Bulma dear, it's time we invited Yamcha and his new girlfriend round to dinner?"

Bulma looked up from her slop of mashed potatoes to stare at her mother's smiling face. The evening was late, and the rain moaned and beat against the tiles and walls of the house. Vegeta had come in late, halfway through the main meal, (something which he had recently taken to doing) with a dark, brooding look on his face. Her father, who it seemed, had noticed the thick tension in the air between them had been keeping a close watch on her- scrutinising her suggestions and movements as if trying to catch her out at her own game. She felt her insides shiver at the challenge, and it set her nerves on edge, subconsciously she tugged and cotton fabric of her sleeves dragging them further down her arms.

Yamcha here? With that-that woman? Rage bubbled up inside of her and she had difficulty suppressing from her face.

"Perhaps dear," her father interjected suddenly, tapping the pink and gold china tureen with a sliver spoon, "we should invite all of the Z gang as well, you know make a bit of a party out of it."

Her mother clapped her hands together in delight, her blonde hair bouncing in blonde curls about her head, "Oh yes, that would be good, it's been such a long time since we last did that."

Bulma felt her skin prickle; she looked up from her plate to find him staring at her with inscrutable onyx eyes, her stomach flipped in revulsion. She had been ignoring him totally recently, thinking about him made the pain altogether worse. Her heart seemed to thump irregularly in her chest, and her pulse quickened, she looked away, her eyes falling on a picture by the mantelpiece. Only to see a younger version of herself smiling back happily, a diploma in one hand and a victory sign in the other, her heart seemed to twist and then break.

"It would be a good idea Dad." She said suddenly, her smile bright, "I've missed seeing all the old gang, Gohan's growing up so fast and I haven't seen Goku in ages."

Her father nodded his approval at this, and they talked, discussing plans, food, convenience and other trivialities. His eyes never left her, she noticed, and as she stood up to go into the kitchen with her half eaten plate he followed her. Her hands dug hard into the palms of her hand as she stood in the kitchen, washing her dish.

She heard the clatter of the china somewhere behind her, her hands clutching on hard to the sides of the sink.

"And you really think you can cope with all of them at once?"

The whisper came hot and hissing into her ear, subconsciously she jerked her head away, her mouth twisting up in revulsion.

"I have nothing to say to you." She retorted calmly and acidly, her eyes fixed on the soapy suds floating about in the dirty tap water.

His hands encircled her waist and pulled her back hard against his chest, "You think you have them all fooled don't you?" he snarled, his mouth pressed into her blue curling hair; "You're the only fool here!"

She laughed then, low in her throat and twisted herself about in his arms so she could face him, pressing her hands against his chest she tilted her head back slightly so she could see directly into his eyes.

"I am not afraid of you Vegeta," she said calmly, "I can do whatever the hell I like with my life, and it's no concern of yours."

"Really?" he hissed, "I suppose jumping out of windows and threatening to put the blame on me is none of my business then." he tightened his grip on her forearms and drew her closer, hips against hips, torso against torso.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not doing anything-just leave me alone."
"Damn you woman, you know I very well can't do that!"

She looked at him then with a strange expression in her eyes, "Why?" questioned, her lips compressing into a thin line.

Vegeta felt like his insides were on fire, his grip became so tight it was painful; suddenly impulsively he kissed her, hard, painfully hard. So his teeth toe against the tender flesh of her pink lips, and so the taste of blood coursed through his mouth.

"Fix the damned machine!" he hissed, her blue eyes were wide and staring as he walked out of the backdoor slamming forcibly behind him so the ceiling shook.

She felt that her knees would crumble beneath her as she leant against the counter, touching her bloody lips and fighting the need to tear at her skin. She was aching with a stabbing pain that coursed through her entire body. A whole month, four weeks and thirty-one days she had avoided this feeling-and now it was in her again, feeding the pain, she felt her brain tilt slowly into overdrive. She hated him-oh how she loathed the man-how dare he? How dare he make her feel like-like this?

She took a deep shuddering breath, turned around and leant over the sink, as though she was about to be sick. She heard the tinkle of a glass, and heard her father open the kitchen door, "Bulma!" he cried, rushing over and feeling her forehead, "Honey are you sick? You're flushed, and you're shaking!"

Dimly she looked down at her hands, to see that she was indeed shaking, the palms slightly reddened where she had dug her nails into the soft flesh, her lips twisted in a sour, forbidding smile as she look at it.

"No-I'm just a little dizzy Daddy, I'll be fine, just-just let me sit down for a while."

He would pay, she had forgotten for a while, consumed by her own grief, but oh- if she could not forget then neither would he, she would make him sorry. Sorry for ever trying to win; and she would rather die then loose this game.

She walked into the sitting room and fell onto the couch, breathing heavily to calm her own heartbeat.

"I wonder," she murmured aloud, her eyes closed, "how many people tempt their own death?"

2nd Authors note : Ahhhh! The crapness, I'm soooooo sorry cries But I have to set the scene for the things later to come laughs evilly okay, no more chocolate for me…I actually at this precise moment really want to write Death Note fanfiction-what? You haven't read it? OMG! WHY! (: (link is posted in my bio XD)

So yep, yep, will slash L and Ratio yet Mwhuaaaa! Oh yes, chapter also dedicated to Shadow Vampire (because I love her lots and she's always pestering me about writing….argh..I have to go write other stuff now ;;)

Please, please review…because I love-let me under line this I love feed back it's about 90 of the reason why I write fanfiction. Oh, but then again this chapter is so bad you probably don't want to 0..o;

Thank you for reading, for ever reviewing and just putting up with my lazy bum, I love you all!

Hahah oh write up in your review on what you think will happen next, I'd love to see where you think this is going!

Ja-ne!

Love The Eternity Dragon and Murray