-6-
Arthur popped his third pain tablet of the day. The headaches didn't go away with the first or the second one. In fact, he was pretty sure that they had gotten worse.
He sat behind the massive desk in his office and pressed his fingers to his temples, hoping that just the right amount of pressure would relieve him of the pounding in his head.
"What the hell," he muttered, closing his eyes against the pain. But instead of the blackness that comes with this action, he was assaulted with images.
Fire, crumbling walls, a sword glinting in the sunlight, eyes suddenly flashing gold, and a woman with long, dark hair looking at him with love.
Arthur's eyes suddenly sprang open. The images came in flashes, like glimpses seen through the window of a fast-moving car. The images of the sword and the fire soon faded away, but the face of the woman seemed to burn in his mind. He knew that if he closed his eyes, he would see her again, but he held back. Something inside him sensed that it would be dangerous to do so, but why?
He ran a hand through his hair and then moved to pick up his mobile phone. Without thinking, he pressed a button and waited for a call to connect.
"Hello?" Merlin's voice spoke into his ear.
"Merlin?" Arthur was flabbergasted. Why had he called Merlin?
"Mr. Pendragon," Merlin's voice hinted at curiosity. "Is there anything you need, sir?"
"Uh, nothing," Arthur mumbled. "I must have dialed the wrong number. Sorry."
"Are you all right, sir?" Merlin's voice was worried, and Arthur knew that if he answered to the affirmative, Merlin would be here and waiting on him until he was ready to go home.
"I'm fine," Arthur bit out, annoyance adding to the throbbing of his head. "It's just that this goddamned headache won't go away."
"Should I tell Dr. Gaius to expect a visit from you tomorrow?"
"What?" Arthur frowned. "No, no. No doctor's visits until after I've sorted out Leodegrance."
"If you're sure, Mr. Pendragon."
"I'm sure," Arthur wanted to end this call already. "Good night Merlin."
"Good night, sir."
Arthur ended the call and gave in a little to his fatigue. He laid his forehead down on his desk; the highly polished dark wood felt cool on his skin. His eyes fluttered shut and he once again saw the face of the woman.
Her skin was a few shades darker than burnished copper and her eyes were the darkest of browns. There was a smattering of freckles along the bridge of her nose. Her lips were full and generous. As she looked at him, a corner of her mouth turned up in a smile, it was then that he noticed that she was bare from the waist up.
She was sitting with her back to him on a large, four poster bed. The sheets were tangled about her waist and she was looking at him over her shoulder. It was the pose of a woman beckoning to her lover, but with her, it was also innocent and sweet.
Dark curls spilled over her shoulders, down her back, and well past her waist. And as she turned to face him, Arthur saw the dip of her waist, the flatness of her stomach, the generous curve of a breast, and the beginnings of the flare of her round hips.
"Arthur," she said his name. "My King."
Arthur's eyes flew open, ending the dream. He had been on the verge of calling out her name. Jennifer? Genevieve? It was right on the tip of this tongue, so why couldn't he remember it?
He remembered how the woman looked as she sat on the bed. The curves of her body, how her skin glowed in the light, how she obviously wanted him. Arthur's body began to respond to the images he saw.
Who was she? And why did she call him "my king?"
"I'm going crazy," Arthur muttered to himself.
A look at the clock said that it was well after quitting time, and with a final call to his assistant Geoffrey, Arthur was out the door. He was hoping for an early night, and for more dreams filled with visions of his mysterious lover.
