VISIONS OF FLESH AND BLOOD: a Blood and Ash/Flesh and Fire Compendium is a comprehensive companion guide for background, history, reader-favorite information, art, and reference materials. Combined with original short stories and scenes from some of the world’s most beloved characters, as well as never-before-seen visual enticements, it’s a treat for the senses.

Told from the point of view of Miss Willa herself, the compendium acts like research material but reads like a journal and cache of personal notes, allowing the reader to revisit the characters and history they so love yet view things in a different way.

VISIONS OF FLESH AND BLOOD by Jennifer L. Armentrout with Rayvn Salvador is a must-add addition to the series that any Blood and Ash/Flesh and Fire fan will enjoy.

Excerpt: Visions of Flesh and Blood

Dearest Diary,

This evening’s rendezvous deserves an entry. I knew the minute I walked away, sated and smiling, that I wanted to capture the event in glorious detail.

The air felt charged tonight during my time out, though whether from an encroaching storm or my excitement, I knew not. Regardless, it kissed me as it passed, billowing my gown and caressing my bared skin, making goose bumps rise deliciously. I can feel them in this moment as I write, a frisson of anticipation skittering down my spine.

I can almost taste the whiskey I sipped as I walked, the scents of jasmine and night-blooming roses surrounding me like a fine perfume, reminding me of the buxom blonde I dallied with some moons prior. She’d smelled of forbidden nights and wicked fantasies—something we’d made a reality. Mmm. I’m shivering now just remembering it.

But back to tonight’s adventure…

As I walked to join my paramour for our scandalous tryst, an agreement made on the dance floor of a Lord and Lady’s pre-Rite ball, the maze rose on either side of me, its lush, leafy walls silvery-green in the moonlight. I reached out and touched the shrubs, the scrape of the sheared branches and leaves on my palm and fingertips reminding me of whiskers on delicate flesh.

Making my way to the center of the labyrinth, I recall thinking of what awaited me there. Not a mystical beast of lore, but a virile male of exquisite masculine beauty—though if I’m being honest (and I am always honest with myself) I’d hoped he would devour me in much more pleasurable ways.

Even now, here in my chambers, my face stretches as I remember the thought—and the ways in which those hopes were fulfilled.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I made my way through the twisting and turning hedgerows until I reached the center of the maze, finishing my last sip of liquor as I cleared the leafy wall, the delicate burn of the spirits like a warm hug. It lit me from within, but not as much as the scene spread out before me.

The gracious hosts of this evening’s activities—well, the ones inside the manor, anyway—had bedecked their labyrinthian garden with an ornate wrought iron table and chairs and tall sconce torches with flickering firelight.

The circular clearing was filled with flowering trees that I knew would be a vibrant fuchsia in the daylight but were the color of mulled wine in the incandescent glow of the moon.

But even that wasn’t what caught my attention. No, what had me stopped in my tracks, my gaze riveted, was the man sprawled on a cushioned chaise lounge, his taut, toned skin on display, nothing but the gossamer tail of one of the curtains affixed to the arch under which he sat covering his manhood.

His features were as I remembered yet made almost more ethereal by the moonlight. Chiseled cheeks and square jaw, a scar running along his cheekbone to his right temple. The healed wound only heightened his attractiveness and lent credence to his strength. He had an intelligence about him that you couldn’t escape, even from one look into his gorgeous green eyes, slightly hooded and highlighted by the slash of dark brows. His tawny hair was just above shoulder-length and wavy, giving him a roguish air and blatant sex appeal that had first drawn me to him across the ballroom.

I continued taking him in, my wandering gaze traveling leisurely from head to toe. Even from the distance, I could see that he was primed and ready for me, eagerly awaiting my arrival.

I clearly remember now the thrill that ran through me, the sense of power and pride. Just the anticipation of meeting me here had done these things to a man who had seemed so very much in control earlier in the eve. I also remember thinking—and hoping—that he’d exert some of that control over me.

He did not disappoint.

I walked toward him, putting an extra sway in my step, and running my tongue over the rim of the crystal glass I held, holding his gaze the entire way.

I set the tumbler on the table as I passed, watching, attention rapt, as General Ximien palmed himself through the gauzy curtain, the muscles in his bent leg bunching, the moonlight glinting off sweat already dotting his tempting skin the captivating color of amber.

When I reached him, I started disrobing, slowly, pieces and accoutrements of my festival attire falling to the dewy grass beneath my slippered feet, my gaze never leaving his.

He peered up at me all the while, the light in his eyes flashing, his teeth gripping the plump flesh of his lower lip, impressive chest heaving with breaths.

I asked him if he liked what he saw, and his only response was a deep groan as he gripped himself harder.

When I shed the last vestiges of my attire, I let my hair down, watching as a blue-black curl fell forward to flirt with a nipple. The silky feel of it added to the intense pleasure I felt starting to spiral up my spine, making the already tight buds bead almost painfully in the humid night air.

And still, he merely stared—the appreciation in his gaze ratcheting my desire. Something about the distance between us was even more erotic than if he’d reached for me, that charge in the air creating an invisible tether that turned into a buzz in my blood. Yet despite the excitement, I felt empty, bereft. In need of touch.

And so, I touched myself. I gripped my breasts, palming the heavy globes and pinching the tingling tips between my fingers, my eyes closing and head falling back on a sigh.

In a heartbeat, I felt the air stir and heard movement as General Ximien, one of Queen Ileana’s Royal Guards, jerked me against his hard body, his pulsing cock trapped between us, leaving a cooling trail of wetness behind as he shifted for better access. I suddenly wanted to know what he would taste like. Would he be smoky? Sweet? Tart?

But before I could voice those desires, he had my hair wrapped around a fist and his mouth on mine, a finger sliding into the crevice of my backside as he pulled me tighter against him.

It was no tentative kiss. It was one of claiming—unleashed passion and pent-up desire, coalescing into a firestorm of need. I remember thinking that if our first kiss was such, the rest of the night should be glorious, indeed.

I reached between us and palmed his impressive erection, the silky feel of his skin over the steel beneath wringing a groan from me. The Arae had blessed him. My fingers barely touched around the thickness of his shaft, and when I opened my hand, my fingertips finding the coarse curls of his groin, the time it took in my slide until the heel of my hand reached his tip was a bit shocking—in the most captivating and exciting way.

I recall thinking that I couldn’t wait to feel the stretch and burn of him. To see if his curve hit me in that spot inside that made galaxies burst to life behind my eyes.

He released my hair and hoisted me into his powerful arms. I wrapped my legs around him, the ridges of his abdomen creating a delicious friction that had me tightening my thighs and rotating my hips in his hold.

He raised an eyebrow and flashed me a devastating smile, whispering something about me being greedy before nipping my lip. I can’t remember if I said anything in return.

When he deposited me on the chaise, I wondered if we’d go straight to the fucking—I was certainly primed and ready—or if he’d have other ideas. Turned out, he had a great many other ideas.

He urged me back on the cushion and then jerked me down, his fingers indenting on my thighs in a way that had me wondering if I’d have bruises on the morrow. They’d be badges of honor if they did manifest.

He urged my thighs apart, moving closer to drape first one and then the other leg over his broad shoulders as he flashed me a lascivious grin.

And then he descended.

He ran his turgid tongue along the length of me several times, then delved deeply, swirling and twisting that wonderful muscle in ways no other lover had (and I have been with a great many and varied bedpartners over my long life). Just as he had me panting, he retreated, but not far, just up a bit to lap at that bundle of nerves already throbbing for him. For more.

He repeated the process several times, always keeping me guessing as to what he would do next. All I could do was try to breathe and grip his sandy hair in my fists, urging him on as my body came alive.

When I finally crested that peak and cried out my pleasure to the night, my muscles locked tight and core convulsing in a seemingly never-ending wave, he drank of me as if I were the finest wine.

With one final scandalous lick, he raised his head, a knowing smirk on his face, and then told me I was delicious as he took my lips in a searing kiss so I could taste for myself.

In that moment, I wanted to return the favor. I wanted to see how he tasted and thought back to my initial thoughts as I’d felt the evidence of his desire on my stomach. When I told him as much, he actually declined. I wasn’t sure that a man before him had ever said no to having my lips wrapped around their cock. But this one, he said that he wanted to be deep inside me when he found his release. That he wanted to feel me squeezing him so tightly it was almost painful before I shattered and screamed his name to the heavens.

And that’s exactly what he did.

With barely a warning, he sheathed himself in me, to the hilt, and the wanton invasion startled a gasp out of me. As expected, he stretched me delightfully and hit me so deeply, the combination of sensations was just shy of pain. But that fever-bright edge of pleasure-pain only coiled my need tighter.

He set a beautiful rhythm, not too fast and not too slow, and I swiveled and lifted my hips to meet each thrust, holding on for the ride, my arms barely able to wrap around his broad chest and shoulders, my nails digging in.

He hissed at one point and asked for more, and I obliged, scoring his back with evidence of the pleasure he wrought.

When he shifted positions and found that spot deep inside me, I did indeed see stars. And he was punishing in his single-minded tenacity to wring every last ounce of pleasure from me until I did—as he’d wanted—scream his name to the moon, the night birds taking flight from the trees, their cries in harmony with mine.

Even now, in the quiet of my room, I remember the ecstasy. I felt that orgasm from the top of my head to the tips of my toes and everywhere in between. The tingling rush and tightening release as I simply let go and gave myself over to the pleasure. It was extraordinary.

I had assumed that he would follow me, but he surprised me yet again by picking me up in one deft move and moving us both to the cool dampness of the lawn, the chilled dew a striking contrast to my heated flesh.

He positioned me on my hands and knees, running a calloused palm down my spine and eliciting a shiver before caressing and grasping one round globe of my ass.

He gently lowered my head with a hand on my hair, and I felt his broad tip at my entrance. I braced myself for another invasion, but he eased himself in this time with aching slowness, tiny advances and delightful retreats, the friction of the slide making my body come alive again in ways I didn’t think possible.

When the teasing almost became too much, I pushed back into him, and he moved his hands to hold me still, gently admonishing me before leaning over to nip my earlobe and swirl that incomparable tongue around the shell of my ear.

He continued his erotic torment until I found myself doing something I didn’t remember ever doing before. I begged. I pleaded. I whimpered for release. I wanted to feel bad about that, but I didn’t. And even now as I write this, I don’t. I loved that he had given me something I hadn’t experienced before.

But those words, the sounds I let free, seemed to make something snap in him. Suddenly, he was thrusting with such an intensity, I worried it might break me, but…what a way to go. When he reached around and down and pressed against my clit, I erupted in another intense orgasm, the force of it locking the air in my lungs.

With two final thrusts, his thighs connecting with mine, he roared his release to the night.

I still couldn’t catch my breath, much less hold myself up any longer, but before I could extricate myself or fall flat on my face, he rose and urged me up with him, the two of us still connected, still throbbing. He loosely wrapped a gentle hand around my throat, his thumb caressing my pulse point, and kissed my shoulder, then my neck, causing a new flurry of goose bumps to rise.

I tipped my head to the side to give him better access, and he didn’t disappoint. Just as I felt him starting to slip free of me, he kissed the spot behind my ear, gently, sweetly, making me sigh. And then he whispered something I will never forget.

He said, “You are a remarkable and extraordinary creature, Wilhelmina Colyns. You have beauty to rival the gods, and cunning to put any cave cat to shame. You have utterly bewitched me, and I shall never forget you for as long as I live. I will take these memories with me into battle when next I am called.”

I turned in his arms and kissed him then, showing him without words how much I appreciated the evening, as well. We had given each other things that I didn’t think either of us realized were missing.

We dressed in silence, simply stealing appreciative glances at each other. He helped me with the last bits of my corset and gown, even though I didn’t need the help, and I assisted in straightening the lapels of his vest and the cuffs of his shirt.

We shared one last dance under the stars, no music but the sounds nature provided, and then kissed sweetly one last time, an intimate goodbye.

I turned as I was leaving the clearing, wanting a mental portrait of the setting to take with me. General Ximien was fastening his sword belt around his waist and tucking a wicked-looking dagger into his boot but looked up at me with such a look of reverence it made my body flush.

He called to me that he’d find me again, and I gave him a saucy wink and told him he could try, then made my way through the intricate hedgerow maze once more, so dazed from pleasure that I took a couple of wrong turns and had to double back.

When I reached my carriage and headed home, the events of the night continued to play in my mind, just as they do now.

I have always said that life is for living and I have never been one to waste a day, but I think if anyone were to ask me, I might give up one of those days for another hour in that man’s arms. The pleasure he brought me was incredible—and as you know, diary, I am no stranger to seduction and pleasure. Plus, I was able to take one of the Blood Queen’s guards away from his Royal duty for a while. Just long enough for what I saw in my vision to manifest—or at least I hope.

I guess we’ll see.

Still, tonight was definitely an encounter fit for these pages.

Willa