Ashlyn Chronicles 1: 2287 A.D. by Glenn van Dyke, Renee van Dyke Page B

Steven had wanted her to give Ashlyn her personal items upon waking. He had hoped they would help ease her transition.
    Though only a few seconds had passed since she had left, Renee opened the door just in time to hear Ashlyn utter the words, “Alnilam, Mintaka, Alnitak.” Though she recognized the words, she knew nothing of their contextual significance.
    She stood frozen as flashes of sparkling light danced around Ashlyn. The air itself glowed golden in color, and the room became alive with sizzling, crackling energy.
    Ashlyn’s hair lifted, papers fluttering around the room as if they were in a twister. Renee watched as Ashlyn’s breathing grew heavy, erratic—her body writhing deeper into the throes of ecstasy. As the blanket covering Ashlyn sailed across the room, carried by the wind, Renee observed an unseen force manipulating Ashlyn’s body. Her breasts contorted under the touch of invisible hands, her stomach compressing as if someone were atop her. Her hips canted, and her legs came up, wrapping themselves around an invisible presence, her nails clawing at the bed.
    Renee shouted above the roaring wind, “Gena, record everything that is happening to her. Run a full chemical and adrenal gland scan and maintain a continuous scan of her brain activity. Highlight all anomalous readings. Chart everything about her down to the molecular level. I want to know what’s happening to her!”

***
     
    While fast asleep, a tendril of energy touched Steven, waking him. As his own electrical field responded to the Siren-like call of Ashlyn’s aura, his mind released a massive wave of adrenaline. It raced through him, opening dormant neural pathways. Like a man lost at sea on a moonless night, Steven found himself afloat in a dark, featureless void. Though seemingly alone, he knew he was not. He could feel a tender warmth lovingly calling him. It encircled him, rousing him with a skillful lover’s touch. His passions raged.
    Far above him was a solitary, yellow, glowing ember. It twinkled once, twice, and then erupted in a brilliant, golden flash that made him wince. It dimmed, warmed to orange in color, twinkled, and then split in two. The two radiant embers moved around each other, traveling faster and faster until they danced like a pair of frisky fireflies. They flashed, the two becoming four. Four became eight. They split and split again, brightening the darkness in much the same way as the first warm rays of a sunrise chasing away the cold loneliness of night.
    As the hauntingly beautiful pathway formed, the dark sea around Steven evaporated. In some mysterious way, the light begged him to let the warm passing breeze carry him along in its wake. Under its mesmerizing control, he could not say no.
    No more corporeal than a ghost, Steven drifted down the pathway toward the golden light that was growing ever brighter with each passing moment. As the light engulfed him, the image of Ashlyn solidified before him.
    Her beauty arrested him. She was the hallowed epitome of feminine sensuality, hypnotically beautiful in every detail. Her face was soft, sensual, and one for which nations would go to war.
    Seeing her now, his thoughts drifted. She is a woman of which men dare not dream, fearing they will become lost to their lust and never awaken.
    Aching to hold her, his soul hungry to devour her, he felt a crushing need to possess her. As his mind succumbed to obsessive desire, the nucleus of each cell in his body was set ablaze. Even as his deepest desires wished he were in her arms, so did the melding of their auras make his wish possible.
    The sensuality of her touch left him gasping for air. Ashlyn’s eyes closed, her lips parted, finding his.
    The savage but tempered man within was unleashed. Her kiss instantly captured him, and not unlike a heroin addict, he became enslaved to the rapturous psychosis.
    Under a thunderous cloud, wrapped within each other’s arms, they basked in the warmth of the