Welcome to DBZ Love Garden
~ Where Saiyan Hearts Thrive ~
Blood Lust
by Myrivalshipkakavege
More by this Writer
The vampiric prince of a foreign country has made his way to a peaceful, coastal city. There, he encounters a man more like him than he realizes, bound to him before they ever met. He intends to expose his true nature and make him his before the humans can intervene.
Art Source:
https://www.deviantart.com/art/Caution-101872519
Art Source:
https://www.deviantart.com/art/Caution-101872519
01: Shipwreck
The sky was starless and cloudless, a black canvas that night.Yet, an intense wind blew, causing a struggle aboard a traveling cargo ship in the sea. Torrential waves crashed against the hull of the fully manned ship, which was bound for the coast of the nearby continent. The crew fought to right the wavering ship, but it was the unpredictable impacts of the waves against its hull that controlled the ship that night, not the crew.
A crate, which had come loose from its secure fastening onboard, slid violently on deck and pounded against the railing of the ship. The crew members nearest to the crate immediately recognized the anomaly and hurriedly worked to secure their cargo. Others joined in as the crew members struggled to fight an unexpected force pounding from within the crate, while the men were still being thrown around by the merciless rocking of the ship.
A low growl rumbled from within the crate, and the men looked at one another in shocked, deep perplexity.
"Get that crate boarded up!" A sailor shouted out of desperation as the growling from within the crate grew louder.
The man with his hands nearest the opening struggled with all his strength to seal the busted lid over the crate, but the strength emanating from inside the vessel was too strong for him to counter. With a few determined grunts of effort and even the assistance of his nearby crew members, the man still lost his struggle as a pale-skinned hand shot through the opening of the crate, grasping the crewman's leathery-skinned wrist in an iron-clad hold.
The men screamed and yelled, and all but the one who was held immediately jumped or ran from the crate. The wooden lid loudly toppled off the crate from the force of gravity coupled with yet another violent sway of the ship as the man continued screaming and struggling for his life, pulling frantically to loosen his hand from the rock solid grasp of his unknown captor residing beneath the soil in the crate. The heavy lid slid across the deck with a grating screech, followed by a loud bang as it slammed into the crates at the opposite end of the ship.
From within the opened, soil-filled crate, something began to move and displace the soil near the emergence of that marmoreal white hand. The unfortunate captive opened his mouth in a silent scream as bits of soil fell loose from the budding protrusion to reveal impressive, masculine facial features.
Immediately upon being sighted, the monstrous being jerked the man down by his wrist, sinking sharp fangs ferociously into his jugular. The helpless crew mates watched their crying friend's body lose its pallor, being completely drained of blood by the dark and haunting figure from the crate. They panicked and looked around in desperation, fearing whose turn would be next as they had no escape but the suicidal one of diving into the merciless black waters.
Through the night, the symphony of screams from that ship were drowned out by the roar of the crashing waves and the howling of the night winds.
As the light of morning finally approached, the ship neared the coast. With no one manning the ship, it crashed ashore into a cliff of rocks abutting a beach, startling a lightly sleeping young woman to consciousness in a nearby home.
The woman sat up with a start, rubbing the back of her delicate hand against her face with a breathy sigh before turning her gaze towards the window. Her blue eyes shimmered with curiosity as she slowly rose from the bed, her bare feet gently landing on the plush white carpet below. She tiptoed to the window, being careful not to wake the others in the house as the dimness of light from outside informed her that it was still very early. As she pulled the crimson velvet curtain back, she swept a silky blue lock of hair from her eyes with her other hand.
The sight outside the pane-glass window revealed to her the ruins of the cargo ship crash, its chaotic circumstance evident by the pieces of broken wood and at least one victim she readily spotted splayed across the rocks, his lifeless state recognizable even from that distance. Out of a need to help, in case there were any survivors, she sprinted outside, no longer worrying about who she might wake.
As the woman ran at full speed with her bare feet being scratched and marred by twigs, jagged rocks, and other bits of earth below her, she began to hope someone did hear her leave the house.
It became apparent as she closed in on that first corpse that the wreck was not the only cause for the deaths of the crew. She carefully stepped around the bloody body with its eyes lifeless and throat grotesquely ripped to shreds. Her stomach lurched at the body's stench of death mixed with seawater as she hurriedly turned her head away to inspect the rest of the wreckage.
She climbed the rocks and viewed the wreck all the way to the shoreline down below the cliffs. With her white chiffon nightgown dancing in the residual breeze from the previous night's windstorm, the woman shivered at the sight of several more corpses scattered on the sands of the beach, eerie in their absolute stillness.
The only visible movements in the scene below were of the torn sails fluttering in the breeze and the rolling waves of the ocean.
The only sounds were the flapping of the sail fabrics, distant cries of seagulls and the low, rhythmic roar of the gentle ocean waves.
The evidence of the bloody carnage that happened aboard that ship was apparent, scattered around with the wayward cargo crates and broken bits of ship.
The woman released a heavy, shaky sigh as she clutched her hand to her chest, attempting to comprehend how such a fatal crash could come ashore near her home that morning. Just as she was about to turn, she detected a minuscule movement among the wreckage in her peripheral vision.
Without another thought about her own safety or her churning stomach, she instinctively sprinted towards that movement in the wreckage, stopping with panting breath when she neared and identified the subtle twitching of fingers slowly protruding from beneath a broken crate with a name printed across it in black, stenciled ink.
The emotionally shaken woman slowly, timidly reached for the pale hand, which had visible traces of dark soil caked beneath its blunt fingernails. Running her own lithe fingers gently over the more masculine, but still alarmingly beautiful ones of the sole survivor of the wreckage, she sighed with relief upon determining that he was, indeed, alive.
His icy fingers curled firmly but gently around hers as she noted, on the busted crate under which he was temporarily buried, the name printed in black.
Vegeta.
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"So I understand you've had quite the difficult journey across the sea, young man." An elderly, white-haired, mustached man commented as he crossed a living room filled with a small gathering of curious, concerned people.
The young woman from the beach sat there beside their recently fed and cleaned guest, rubbing his arm in a comforting gesture. The man seemed uncomfortable with his surroundings, which the others assumed was due to him still being shaken by the traumatic crash.
"You should have seen it, Father," the blue-haired young woman responded with a reassuring squeeze on the crash survivor's arm, "the wreckage…I've never seen anything so terrible." She breathed the words with a disturbed expression crossing her face, before the stranger turned an observant, keen eye on her.
"Bulma, dear, you don't belong at a place like that." A beautiful, older woman chirped. Her blonde hair was pulled tightly in a chignon and her long, Victorian sea-green gown brushed against the coffee table as she moved to take a seat across from Bulma and their guest, reaching for a cup of tea from the table between them.
"I know, Mother." Bulma glanced coyly at the newcomer, whose eyes were burning intensely into her during the conversation. "But it's a good thing I was there. The prince could have died."
"Please, don't make it sound so serious." The prince responded to Bulma, drawing attention from all attendees in the room with his eloquent speech and smooth, deep-timbred voice. "I escaped that crash with only scratches." The prince smirked mischievously before resettling into a serious frown. "I was much more fortunate than my crew."
"Those poor men!" Bulma's mother exclaimed with a deep frown, shaking her head as she placed her teacup back on the table. "Prince Vegeta, where did you say you all came from again?"
"Vegetasei." He responded bluntly, showing no surprise to the dumbfounded reactions crossing the others' faces. "It's a small country in Europe my family's been ruling for centuries, rather unheard of on this side of the ocean." He explained with a charming smile, before the doors busted open with a new group of people hurriedly entering the massive living room.
Vegeta and Bulma looked towards the doors, Bulma smiling in recognition of the arrivals as Vegeta tilted his head curiously. A slender young woman ran forward, the first to burst into the room as she headed for Bulma, scooping her immediately into a protective hug.
"Bulma! Are you alright?" She asked as she released her friend to stare with deep, smoldering black eyes filled with motherly concern into her friend's stoic face.
"I'm fine, Chi-Chi."
"You had to be out of your mind to go down to that shipwreck! What were you thinking?" Chi-Chi scolded with a gasp as the light material of her cream-colored dress visibly fluttered from her agitated movements.
The tall, well-built man with a black disarray of hair who entered with her stepped aside the ebony-haired, pretty woman and wrapped an arm possessively over her shoulder. "Chi-Chi," he cooed, "Bulma was very brave. She saved a man's life by running down to that shipwreck!"
His enthusiastic support was contagious, causing Chi-Chi's reprehensive vigor to whither in favor of smiling with him. Vegeta stared long and hard at the exuberant young man smiling proudly at Bulma, who reciprocated his expression.
At the instant of his appearance, Vegeta felt a sense of familiarity. Amid all the foreigners in this foreign land, for something to feel familiar was quite a surprise. He had left his country in search for others like himself, which he honestly did not expect to find. As far as he knew, he was the last of his kind, but at the very least, he could turn someone to end his plague of solitude. But perhaps…that wouldn't be necessary now. Vegeta smiled to himself before speaking.
"As I just assured the Briefs," Vegeta began as the young man's curious, youthful black eyes traveled to meet his, "my life was by no means in danger." Vegeta's gaze drifted craftily towards the blue-haired woman who seemed enraptured by him every time he spoke. "Though I do appreciate Miss Brief's assistance."
"Are you sure you're alright?" The large, burly man who had entered the room with the youthful couple questioned with genuine concern in a deep, rumbling voice as he stepped towards Vegeta. "Because Dr. Brief can take a look at you."
"It's fine, Mr. King." Dr. Brief responded with an adjustment of the spectacles on his face and a dismissive wave of his palm. "I've already taken a look at the young man. He seems to be quite correct in what he says."
"Well, at least tell us you plan on staying for a while." The striking young man voiced invitingly as Vegeta met his gaze to recognize his earnest request. The man smiled coyly back at Vegeta's victorious smile that emerged upon seeing his eagerness. "I'm sure the Briefs won't mind if you stay here."
"Goku!" Chi-Chi scolded as her cheeks flushed in embarrassment and she directed an apologetic smile towards everyone else in the room. "You can't make an offer on the Briefs' behalf like that!" Chi-Chi turned to Vegeta with a pleading look. "Please, Prince Vegeta, excuse my fiancé."
"Oh, it's alright!" Mrs. Brief exclaimed.
Bulma smiled welcomingly at Vegeta. "We wouldn't mind at all."
Bulma's sultry gaze brought a smug smile to Vegeta's face as he rose to his feet with incredible poise. His shorter stature did not appear so, as what he was lacking in height was made up for in the way he carried himself.
"Actually," Bulma added with a note of concern, "it would be good for you to stay near a doctor, in case there are any delayed ill effects from the crash."
"That's a generous offer, but I'm fine. Besides, I already have a place of my own here." Vegeta's eyes calculatedly scanned across the room, noting the older people openly to him, while Chi-Chi frowned and Bulma and Goku's eyes lit excitedly at the news. "It's a castle, owned by my family since before this town was built."
"Ohhh," Mrs. Brief breathed in amazement, "well that must be-"
"That old, abandoned castle on the hill." Bulma interrupted in awe. "That's yours?"
"Is it really that old, Miss Brief?" Vegeta retorted teasingly.
"Well," Bulma responded unsurely, "I've never been to it myself."
"I have." Goku interjected. "If you'd like, I could escort you there. The paths are overgrown up that hill. Your carriage could stray from the path if you don't know the way."
Vegeta smiled to himself at the convenient offer, before frowning stubbornly instead. "Another generous offer. Though this one, I also have to refuse." Vegeta said as he moved away from the sofa on which he had been seated, in preparation to head to the door. "I know my way to the castle. It calls to me." Vegeta smiled wryly at the curious expressions that crossed the others' faces, before meeting Goku's gaze with a meaningful look. "Has it never called to you before, Mr…?"
Goku looked shocked by Vegeta's question, while the others frowned curiously in bafflement. "Son." Goku finished for Vegeta before he furrowed his brows. "And I guess you could say it has called to me, Prince Vegeta." Goku admitted slowly with a perturbed frown. "I never thought of it that way, but I would say I was always drawn to that castle."
"So you've been trespassing on my property?" Vegeta accused as Goku tensed with guilt.
"Goku, what were you doing up there?" Bulma scolded with her hands on her hips.
Before Goku could utter a defense, Vegeta headed to the door. "Perhaps if it calls to you again, I'll find myself with company."
Vegeta pulled his lips into a suggestive smirk meant only for Goku as Goku blinked back at him speechlessly. Vegeta glanced through the window at the view of the sun peeking over the horizon before looking back to the group of people attentively watching him.
"My travels have made me weary, so I must retire to my home now." Vegeta said as Bulma approached him, reaching for the prince before hesitantly pulling her hands back to her sides. Vegeta smirked at Bulma before reaching for her delicate hand. He raised it to his face and planted his smooth lips against it, keeping his gaze on Bulma the whole time. "Miss Brief, have a good day."
"Yes," Bulma breathily replied as she slowly withdrew her hand into her chest with a nervous swallow, "you, too, Prince Vegeta." She smiled wantonly at the man as he withdrew from the room with a curt bow to the other residents within.
Goku wrapped his fingers tightly around Chi-Chi's shoulder. He looked down at Chi-Chi leaning into his side as he felt a strange pull to leave the room following Vegeta's disappearance. It made no sense for him to want to follow the prince, but Goku felt some sort of connection there, even greater than the pull he felt towards that castle. In both cases, his uncontrollable, mysterious craving for the prince and castle of Vegeta disturbed him. He was both captivated and frightened by the newly-arrived presence.
