Unwanted: The Fourteenth Ring

Unwanted


Chapter 6 - The Fourteenth Ring


"Another ring, Sire?" Radditz frowned after receiving his orders to have a jeweler create a new wedding band for his queen, "This is the thirteenth replacement is it not?"


"Fourteenth," Vegeta's scowl deepened, "You always forget the time she baked her seventh into my dessert to emphasize her sincerity in telling me to 'choke on it'."


Biting his bottom lip, the advisor tried to shield his humor, "Oh, yes, how could I forget that one?" Clearing his throat, he more optimistically offered, "Well, look on the bright side, sir. In your first year of marriage she desecrated nine rings, this year she only ruined five. I would say that is a marked improvement."


"We still have a few days before our 'blissful' anniversary, give her time." He deadpanned the last three words. The woman had all but driven him mad these last two years. From the constant fighting and bickering to destruction of his property, he barely had time to deal with the war fast approaching. "What is the latest news of Nexus?"


A much easier topic; warring he knew, but women, particularly the one he was wedded to, set him in a perpetual state of ignorance. "He's dropped out of sight. Last week he took off with a small band of comrades and has not been seen since, which leaves much room for concern that he is planning something."


Vegeta had been anticipating an attempted coup by Nexus since the day he took Bulma as his bride. Nexus had dared to approach them, two weeks later, spewing venom. Most of his insults had been flung towards the new wife, calling her nothing short of a whore for marrying her deceased love's brother merely months after Kakarrot's death.


He had been more than ready to throttle the man for such a show of disrespect, when Bulma managed to beat him to the punch, pulling Vegeta's sword from its sheath and turning it on the bastard. As nice as it had been for once to see her fiery temper set ablaze on someone other than himself, he prevented her from killing Nappa's cowardly spawn. Not that he had much faith she would have successfully completed the attack with four armed guards surrounding the coward, but no one was going to kill Nexus but himself. Kakarrot was his to avenge.


The gauntlet had then been thrown down, Nexus vowing to reclaim his father's territory, regardless of the wrench both men knew Bulma's marriage put into Nexus' plans. He had left the palace halls with a word of warning that Vegeta had never experienced a night pass without hearing echo through his mind, "You would be wise to keep your precious wife close by, Vegeta. We live in a world of dangerous men, and may the gods protect her if one of them should find benefit in having her eliminated."


The blatant threat had haunted him with an acute sense of helplessness. Never had he imagined when agreeing to a chaste marriage that such an arrangement could leave him feeling powerless to protect her during the most bewitching hours in a day. Yes, he had posted guards outside her door every night, and eventually had her chambers, very much against her wishes, moved into an adjoining room to his, but it was never enough for his conscience. He was not lying beside her every night; he could not be sure a villain had not invaded her chambers and silently carried out Nexus' evils. Such unknowns had enticed him to go back on his word, forcing her to bear sleeping by his side every night if only for her own protection. But he had dared not take any more action to distress his miserable bride, tensions between them were already much too volatile.


She had interpreted his refusal to allow her attack on Nexus as a sign of his disinterest in avenging his brother. That evening she had even gone so far as to insinuate that he was pleased by Kakarrot's death, when ironically that was the complete reciprocal of the truth. He would have given anything to see his brother brought back to life, if for no other reason than to take this she-devil of a wife off his hands.


If the fates had teamed up together and spent hours conjuring the most sadistic way to punish him for his sins, they could not have formulated anything as wicked as life with Bulma. When they saw each other, which contrary to her anticipation, having been much more than a few times a year, they were doing one of two things: arguing or insulting. Whatever plan of truce that was to exist between them held no terms for petty quarrels or childish antics.


He could not make a single suggestion without her disagreeing with him. Whether it regarded diplomatic matters or the dessert served with dinner, she refused to ever take his side in anything. She had to make their war one of attrition, and as much as it pained him to admit, he had lost. A little over a year after their marriage, he had surrendered, refusing to sink to her level any longer. If they could not speak civilly, then they would not speak at all. He began to ignore her, learning quickly to tune out her venomous pitch. To his pleasure, her fight quickly dissipated as well. The two learned how much more pleasant their marriage could be when they never breathed a word to one another, but it was a peaceful serenity that had only successfully lasted for five quiet months before he had to ruin it.


It had been both fascinating and infuriating to arise from a sleepless night, in hopes of breaking his insomnia by a few hours of swordplay, to find his wife occupying his private training facility in the dead of night. The latter of the two emotions had won out when he crept up behind her, clamping one hand over her mouth and the other around her stomach. He had wanted to scare her, to show how foolish ducking her guards' watch had been, when anyone with any foul motive could have approached her, but his purpose had been quickly waylaid by his underestimated wife.


Clearly not knowing he had been her attacker, or perhaps knowing all too well, she used the hilt of the sword she had been training with to slam it against his hipbone. The assault had caused him to lose his balance, and his lower arm to slacken just enough for her to bring a hard elbow against his chest. By that point his grip on her was all but lost as he limped away from her, only to look up when the tip of her blade lifted his chin.


"Vegeta!?" She had acted surprised but he had a sneaking suspicion she knew all along, the sly smirk she could barely contain at the notion of besting him much too prominent on her face. "Are you alright?"


He had been. In no time the sting of her assailing wore off and he felt the inappropriate urge to want a rematch. "Fine," he had growled as he walked over to the weapons table and claimed one of his favorite blades before rejoining her. "It is dangerous for you to be unescorted in the dead of night. What happened to your guards?"


"They are right outside the door," she had responded flatly. He was tempted to check to make certain she had not been lying to him but, in truth, it would have been a moot point considering if there were actually two guards stationed outside the door, they certainly did not help prevent anyone from getting to her. The idiots had not thought to cover the back door he had entered from. "Not that I need their help, clearly," she reminded with a satisfied smirk that heated his loins in a completely improper manner.


"A few tricks will not save you from a well trained warrior," he had lifted his weapon to bat at hers, encouraging her to tighten her hold in preparation. "How long have you been coming down here to train?" Not only was he curious how long this deception had been kept from him, but also how advanced she may have become. He always wondered what her fury would look like behind the tip of a sword.


"The month after I arrived, approximately; I was not going to allow my skill to wane just because of our unfortunate circumstances." A direct hit of course, she had grown very accustomed in her knowledge of which buttons to push to set him on edge, but he had been willing, almost savoring, to hear her sharp tongue snap viciously at him. As pleasant as the peace of their mutual silence had been in the preceding months, a part of him missed their verbal sparring matches.


"So you have already been properly instructed?" He took several long strides to slowly circle around her as he eyed her unladylike appearance. Though she was dressed in fashion clearly designed to pattern a man's riding clothes, the fabric appeared to be of a much more flexible nature, seeing how flawlessly it clung to her body. With her long tresses pulled back in a loose braid, and her chemise cut in a pattern that left her arms completely exposed, he, for the first time, noticed the slight curve of her biceps. He realized then, there was much he had yet to learn about his fetching wife.


"I have been properly instructed since shortly after I learned to walk." She had twisted her head over her shoulder to watch carefully as he trailed his leisurely path, "First by my father, and then Kakarrot." It had been the first time he had heard her speak of his dead brother without flinching, he had supposed that should have pleased him, but somehow it did not.


"Then you must be in want of a new instructor," he had insisted after stopping before her. Resting the tip of his blade at her ankle, he slowly traced it up the hourglass curve of her body before steadying it next to her cheek. "Let us see whether you are worth my time or not."


She must have been outraged by the arrogance of his indirect offer, because she attacked him with an intensity that made him wonder if she was genuinely hoping to run her sword through him. Fortunately that had not been the case. She was good, her techniques an intriguing blend of Toma's and Kakarrot's, but in the end, she simply did not have the vast experience he did with swordplay.


Once her breathing began to hint at exhaustion, he ended their skirmish, slyly knocking the blade from her hand, allowing her the chance to finally collapse from fatigue. "Not bad," he could not help the taunt in between a few raspy breaths of his own as he returned the weapons to the altar. When he returned to her side, he had taken an unceremonious seat beside her, allowing himself a moment's rest while his partner caught her breath. "I think, my lady, you may have overexerted yourself." It had been an unconscious move, reaching out to clear the sweaty strand of her hair from her flushed face. Never had he anticipated the daze she would flood over him as her bottomless blue eyes snapped towards his, surprised by his gesture.


For some time he remembered staring at her, his hand not moving to release the cheek he had softly circled, and then something shocking had happened. Her eyes slid shut, and she gently pulled his hand from her cheek to her lips, placing a gentle kiss in the center of his palm. "Will you take on a humble student under your expert tutelage, Sire?" The little minx, he had quickly decided then, was toying with him. Properly addressing him was a dead giveaway, along with the almost seductive glance she spared him as her eyes opened to lock with his. He would have given up his title at that very moment if it had prevented his body from reacting to her.


"I am not a man to be trifled with," his warning seemed a joke, even before she pulled away from him to release a boisterous laugh. He felt damn tempted to grasp her, pulling her body flush against his, invading her mouth with a tender assault of his tongue that would leave her in a similar state as he, but he did not, instead he rose to his feet and headed for the door.


"Vegeta! Vegeta, come on, I was just kidding," she had called after him as if that was supposed to soothe his ego. When she finally stopped him before exiting the chamber, he felt the need to either throttle her or throw her on the ground and mate with her until daybreak. Irritated that neither was an option, he had allowed her to speak.


"I am sorry I insulted you," there was not a hint of mockery in her claim, but he would not fully understand why until she confessed, "it-it's just my only defense against your being nice to me." Defense! As if she needed protection from his kindness, the little backwards chit. "In all honesty, I would not mind a training partner. If you were genuine in your offer, I would very much like to take you up on it."


Every fiber of his being told him to say no, to storm out on her, leaving her looking the fool, but he had not. Her damn eyes had trapped him, and before he knew it, he had a rendezvous scheduled every night at eleven. He should have been pleased. It was a step forward, they were finally moving closer to-dare he consider-her actually not hating him.


The only drawback, however, was while her dislike for him seemed to decrease, his sexual frustration amplified tenfold. Watching her body move so agilely made him wonder how creative they could be as lovers. Every time he saw her skin glisten with sweat, he imagined her under him, her legs spread wide, welcoming his intrusion for once. Even the moans, the grunts and growls as she fought him had damn near turned him into a rutting teenager. And if that all was not enough, she acted as though she failed to realize his state of perpetual arousal.


How maddening, that his own damn wife drove him to such states of lust and he could not in the least satisfy them with her, not that he had not tried. To his chagrin, he found himself dropping innuendoes, hoping one may tempt her fancy, but none ever did. She seemed entrenched in her refusal to couple with him. Not that he had any right to try to solicit her, but he was a man, one with painfully neglected needs. Not, again, that he could blame her for that.


So, instead he had been living in a mind numbing state of frustration for the past few months, simply accepting his fate of being bound to a woman he could never touch, regardless of how desperately he wanted to. "Double Bulma's guards, I do not want to give Nexus a chance to surprise us." If he was not privileged enough to lay his hands on her, then he was going to make damn sure no one else did.


"Consider it done," Radditz rose from his seat, promising to keep Vegeta alerted of any further developments. Once Vegeta found himself alone, he reached across the table to pour himself a full glass of his favorite alcohol. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes, hoping to ease some of his tensions away. Little could he have realized that the embodiment of all his troubles had been about to prevent his serenity.


"Sorry to interrupt." His wife did not sound the least bit sincere as she allowed herself access to his room. Pushing aside his legs he had comfortably propped up on his desk, she then lifted herself up to sit in their place.


"What do you want?" He wanted to sound indignant, but watching her cross her legs as she leaned back just enough to rest her palms flat atop the edge of the table behind her, he could barely prevent himself from releasing a seductive purr. The figure-fitting riding suit and complimenting midnight blue, ankle length jacket she sported left much to the imagination, keeping his mind occupied for a good few minutes before his lack of attention became embarrassingly apparent.


"Are you listening to me?!" The sound of Bulma's hand repetitively slapping the edge of the table jolted him to attention. "I asked if you would be so kind as to escort me on a ride. My horse needs exercise."


"Don't you have a personal attaché to attend to such things?" It was not truly a question, for he already knew the answer, but he had hoped the reminder would extricate her from his room, and his thoughts. It did neither.


"Yes, but Codo fell terribly ill this morning. And all of my personal palace guards are taking their daily respite for the next hour. I even tried asking Radditz after I saw him coming out of your office, but he told me you have given him a debt of work. So, I am afraid my options are limited." She puffed out her lips in an almost childish manner. He would have insulted her for her immaturity if the expression had not been so damn sexy.


"I'm busy. Wait until one of your guards returns from his break." Aside from having no particular inclination to ride at this moment, he had no intention of walking the palace halls towards the stables with a growing erection straining his pants.


"Ah!" With an exasperated sigh, she pushed herself off of his desk, the childlike appearance she faked moments ago, suddenly gone. "You treat me like a prisoner around here!" she nearly screamed as she began a short pace in front of him. "I am not allowed anywhere without an escort. I have to log in my itinerary every day after I awaken. I can do nothing in private around here, not even take my horse for a ride around the perimeter. You give me no freedoms!"


"It is for your own protection," Vegeta answered in reflex. How many times must they have this argument before it finally sinks in? "Once Nexus is no longer a threat, you will have the freedom to do anything or go anywhere that you please. In fact, should you choose to disappear indefinitely, I will not execute the least bit of effort to look for you."


For a moment, granted, it was the briefest of moments, he thought she looked wounded by his statement; but whatever he saw, or thought he saw, disappeared as the demon he had become intimately familiar with quickly reemerged. "A blissful future to look forward to, no doubt, but it does little for my current state of misery. I am suffocating in this castle and if I am not allowed some air immediately, so help me-"


"Let us not be melodramatic," Vegeta lifted his hand to silence her woes. "I am sure you have the willpower to bear suffering for another hour before an escort may become available to you. Now, I have more trying issues to deal with than that of a temperamental woman, so if you would show yourself out." He pointed to the door, and to his surprise she actually turned on her heel and exited without further argument.


He should have known then. Two years he had lived with her and never once did she leave without claiming the final word. Her silence had been as overt as screaming an imminent defiance. But he had ignored her that afternoon, and as he would come to discover a few short hours later, his developing obsession to banish her from his sight, his mind, and his body, could very well cost him her life.


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