Twenty Six year old Blake Hunter is the Alpha of the largest pack in the region. Finding his mate is the last thing on his mind.
But, in the midst of dealing with uninvited relations, aspiring future Lunas and increasing rogue attacks on his easter...
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Unaware that Blake was having some serious problems navigating the treacherous route back to her; Hannah spent much of the same night reliving her cryptic conversation with Aunt Sarah. Despite her best efforts it followed her into her nightmare where the mad rogue danced on the frozen shore - his sing-song voice repeating her own questions back at her:
"Why would he want you? Why should he choose you? Who are you?"
When the fire began to creep along the edges of the lake, the screams of the unknown wolves morphed into the faces of Blake's pack and she watched, helpless while a great battle raged amongst the flames.
Aunt Sarah, with her four mates stood placidly on the rocky shore next to her, clicked her knitting needles, shaking her head. As the lake burned, she wagged her finger and muttered: "It will destroy him, you know..."
As Hannah averted her eyes from the horrific scene, she was confronted by Victoria who cackled her high-pitched laugh as she danced the dance of the devil's daughter with Blake across the surface of the smoky, icy lake.
"We're practically mates already," she reminded Hannah as she whirled past, flames licking at her skirts and fire in her eyes. The rogue cackled, dancing around her faster and faster, saliva dripping from his chin.
Hannah crouched down at the water’s edge, desperate to escape the insanity. As she stared down at the frozen surface of the lake, thick black letters rose up like smoke under the ice to form the words:
YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!
She sat up in bed, sweat dripping into her eyes and gasping for air.
Goddess! She was growing tired of dreaming.
Sleep refused to return after that, and for the remainder of the night she lay staring at the ceiling, obsessively running the events of the last few days over and over in her mind, trying to make sense of them.
The following morning, tired and irritable, she stumbled down the stairway once again - braced for another lecture about duty, responsibility and the way things used to be.
The man and woman standing stiffly in the hallway of Blake's house were an intimidating pair.
It had nothing to do with sheer size. In fact, the man was short and wiry. The woman, so thin a good breeze could have knocked her over without much effort. But they projected an aura of power and intimidation that stopped Hannah in her tracks and forced her to take a second look.
The man’s crisp suit spoke of a wealth few could afford - his short stature hidden behind the sharp lines and slicked back hair. The woman had draped herself in an expensive two-piece, all designer names and ostentatious Jewellery.
She didn't remember seeing either of them at the socialites picnic, but the almost identical looks of sheer contempt that they threw her way left her with little doubt whereabouts in the pack their status lay.
