The Honeymoon Continues

Chapter Two

Jennifer held Mirai's head in its resting place. It felt not just good, to have him nestled there in her cleavage, but it also simply felt right. It was a comforting and warm sensation, and let's be honest, pretty damn sexy. She ran her fingers through his hair over and over again, as she remembered how she'd gotten here.

Her hectic schedule as one of the most valued members of the law firm Yarutemae, Taosukarera and Donnani had left her little time for dating, and those few men she did go out with ended up being shallower than the water hazards at a miniature golf course. Then her bosses, as a reward for a truly exceptional job in the biggest case of the year, had given her a ticket to the Tenkaichi Budokai. She wasn't really interested in martial arts, but the tournament was held on a balmy southern island, and she decided that a brief tropical vacation might be just what she needed (besides, you didn't turn down a free gift from the bosses).

Once the tournament had begun, almost from the start she had been struck by the man with the long lavender hair. It was gorgeous, and to be frank, so was the rest of him. But it was more than just sheer physical lust. From her position on the front row, she could see the obvious intelligence in his bright blue eyes as they scanned the stadium, the crowd, the other entrants. She decided that she'd take a risk and try to get to know him better sometime during this tournament. Hell, what was the worst that could happen? A rejection in front of a crowd of strangers she'd never see again? A boring dinner and a check that she'd have to handle herself?

And then he had been introduced as part of the Briefs family, and she felt her heart skip a beat. So not only was he breath-takingly handsome, not only was he smart, but he was a member of the richest family in the world. Surely he had dozens of girls at his beck and call. Her chances would be somewhere in the realm of zero point zero. Could she really handle being shot down by someone like this?

She had watched the matches gloomily as he battled first his younger brother (well, "younger brother," not that she knew it at the time) and then his father ("father," curse her lawyerly, proper-term-obsessed mind). As she observed the latter, she slowly began to berate herself. What had she been thinking, sabotaging herself like that? That wasn't like her. She'd go for it. If she failed, well, at least she had taken her best shot. Then she could live with herself.

After he'd lost the match against his father (it was a split decision by the judges), he had ended up near her section of the stands. She decided it was now or never. She had brought a towel with her in case it got hot and she wanted to wipe off some sweat, but it was obvious that he needed it more than she did. She leaned over and dropped it onto his head. After using it, he looked up at the stands, and she caught his attention. Their eyes met, and the rest was history.

And of course, he hadn't had dozens of girls. He hadn't even had one. Ever. She'd been his first in every possible way. As they got to know one another better, and she learned his sad-beyond-measure story, she'd also learned what the most amazing thing about him was. Not his body that bordered on perfection, not his incredible strength and speed, not the fantastic things he could do with energy, not even the razor sharp intellect he'd inherited from his mother and grandfather.

It was his heart. It was big enough to hold the world, to hold the universe. An entire multiverse (a word she'd never even heard of before they had met). He was kind and gentle, unless someone threatened the world, or even just one life. Then his righteous rage sprang forth, a holy cleansing fire blazing from the depths of his soul, to save all innocents and consume all wrongdoers.

Of course, he was also often tangled in the throes of depression shaded deepest black. Two malevolent cyborgs, over the course of roughly twenty years, had killed the vast majority of the population of his home Earth until he finally became strong enough to defeat them. Just a few months before he met her, a sorcerer and a demon had slain all of the survivors. After he slew them in return, it had taken a god to talk him out of committing suicide and into journeying back to this universe for good. He had more than a little post-traumatic stress disorder, as well. He'd often go quiet and just stare off into the distance. And naturally, there were nightmares. Every single night.

Except last night, the first night of their marriage. Because, in that great big heart of his, there was a special place for her. He loved her deeply, passionately. She made him happy as he never had been before. She considered that a blessing, but also a tremendous responsibility. She would not--WOULD NOT--let this kind, sweet, shy hero suffer one more iota. The night of their engagement, Vegeta had threatened her with hell on Earth if she ever hurt him, but it was an unnecessary threat. If she hurt him, she would make her own life hell.

For he had claimed his own spot in her heart. She had always admired protectors, and had entertained fantasies of being involved with a police officer or firefighter. Instead she had Mirai, who was in a rank all his own when it came to protecting. And she would protect him in turn, with her love, her soul, her wits, her body, her very life if necessary. She would give anything, do anything for him. And she knew he would never ask her to sacrifice herself for him, would be horrified by the very thought. And that made her even more determined to do it if necessary, for this incredible man she loved.

***

Before long, he awoke from his impromptu nap. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Mmhmm."

"Sorry."

"Don't be." She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Felt nice."

"Feels awful nice on this end too," he murmured, nuzzling gently against her soft breasts. She smiled, and sighed happily, still holding him close to her heart.