In the darkest part of the night the dream returned, just as it had every night since she first woke up in the Blackridge pack.

She swore in frustration as she opened her eyes and looked around. She was standing once again on the rocky beach at the edge of the vast, empty lake. Familiar immense evergreens towered over her mockingly, their branches stretching out towards the water like fingers pointing her towards the nightmare to come. The air tasted of snow and ice and her breath drifted in misty swirls around her face as she stared out across the water.

She knew this place. She visited it every night.

Ever since she'd lost her memories – the night the thick blanket of fog had stretched across the lake in her dream – she'd returned to the same stretch of water every time she closed her eyes. Only now, the air was clear and nothing obscured her view of the shore beyond.

She could see mountains stretching up behind the tree line on the opposite side of the water, the rock faces tinged a bluish grey as they arched up into the clouds. The sky was overcast with snow and the landscape seemed to shimmer as the white powder reflected the light back into her eyes.

Her body immediately tensed as she looked around. The scraps of memory left behind by previous dreams returning to her and filling her with a deep sense of foreboding for what was to come.

Wake up, she whispered furiously to herself.

The seasons had changed. Not by much, but enough to suggest that some time had passed. She never remembered the details when she was awake - they came back to her only when her subconscious pulled her roughly back to the rocky shore.

The snow lay a little thicker on the ground. The ice had spread out across the water until the edges looked thick enough to walk on. The lake sparkled with a thousand dazzling crystals, beckoning her closer. In the depths of winter, the water couldn't be more than a deadly four degrees; icy fingers of certain death lurking beneath the surface. But she never walked out onto the ice.

She looked down at herself in disgust. Dressed only in the same thin cotton dress as always, it hung down to her ankles; her bare feet crunching the snow underneath.

What kind of fool dresses like this in the middle of winter?

Icy shivers swept across her skin; but the cold didn't create the chill that rippled down her spine. The peaceful, calming scenery didn't fit with the feeling of dread that was slowly building up inside her. A deep sense that something was wrong.

Her legs were leaden, refusing to budge from the spot where she would watch the nightmare unfold before her. She willed them to move, to take even a single step. But she might as well have been trying to shift the mountains themselves.

Increasingly convinced that she'd been here before, awake, and out of the fog of a dream, she tried to picture the lake in spring or summer. But it was like listening to someone describe a scene from a movie, then trying to picture it in her own mind.

Always she was alone. Always it was deadly quiet... to begin with.

Not even the sound of the birds cut through the silence that surrounded that lake. It was eerie simply because she knew it gave out a false impression of safety. Nothing bad should ever happen here, the serene landscape contradicted the horror yet to come.

Then, as always, the dream that was becoming so familiar to her slowly changed and took on the form of a nightmare. Her heart quickened in anticipation.

Wake up, wake up!

It was no longer quiet in the forest on the other side of the lake. She could hear shouts and screaming from amongst the far-away trees, drifting across the water towards her like the fog that had obscured her vision.

A howl echoed from the trees behind her. Then another. Then another. They were joined by answering calls from across the lake, making the hairs rise on the back of her neck and her skin grow clammy and cold.

Something terrible was happening deep within those trees and she was helpless - nothing more than an outsider looking in, unable even to run away. She could only listen, and fight the deep sense of fear that rose up inside her when the screaming started.

There was a scent in the air, thick and cloying and tinged with iron. It drifted across the lake, stinging her nostrils and sticking in her throat. Her skin crawled as it grew stronger and more pronounced.

It was slowly joined by a new smell. Thick and heavy; tainting the air until her breath came in harsh rasps as she struggled to pull enough oxygen into her lungs. Fearfully, she turned her head to the left, knowing what was coming next.

Please wake up! Please... please...

The first tendrils of smoke. Rising up from beyond the tree line accompanied by a harsh orange glow that advanced around skyline of the lake quickly, barely hampered by the damp snow and cutting off the escape routes from its source on the other side.

Oh, Goddess, wake up!

She pinched her arm with her trembling fingers. A good hard pinch that bruised her skin and made her wince. It made no difference. The nightmare rolled on.

Suddenly, on the far shore there were wolves. Lots of them, running towards the waters edge and along the banks. Some bore the marks of fighting, blood staining their coats as they herded weaker wolves in front of them.

Unable tear her eyes from the scene, she watched as many jumped into the freezing waters, desperately trying to escape the flames that crept ever closer – some carrying pups on their backs. Those still on dry land huddled together as the flames crept ever closer, all escape routes cruelly cut off by the advancing wall of death. A scream clawed it's way up her throat and her whole body went rigid as the billowing smoke grew thicker and covered the surface of the lake's still waters.

Like fog, it cut off her view of the chaos on the other side. But it didn't stop her ears being tormented by the screams and the howls and crackling of relentlessly burning wood. Her legs shook violently and gave out from underneath her. She curled up in a small ball surrounded by the rocks and snow, hands over her ears, her eyes squeezed shut; the horror of what she couldn't see burning into her mind as though she were on fire herself.

"Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop."

Deadly silence followed her fevered prayers. The muted roar of flames all that remained of the Wolfpack it had consumed so easily.

Footsteps approached rapidly from behind her, heavy boots crunching across the rocks and, before she could react, strong hands grabbed hold of her shoulders, pulling her upright.

She did scream, then.

It was wrenched out of her mouth, a feral, agonised sound full of hopeless despair as she thrashed against the hands that held her, wildly flailing her arms about until she felt them make contact with something warm and solid.

"Hannah, stop! Damn that hurt!"

She stilled, her heart still pounding a rapid beat in her chest, and opened her eyes cautiously. It was dark. It was warm, and she was lying half tangled up in a mountain of bedsheets. A soft lamp was the only source light in the room and it highlighted the silhouette of someone perched on the side of her bed rubbing their jaw.

Where am I?

Long shadows stretched across tall walls and strange shapes loomed out of the darkness from the corner's of the room. Her eyes took in the tall bedposts, elaborately embroidered bedspread and low hanging light that dangled above her.

Of course. This was the room allocated to her at the Alpha's house and she lay, sweaty and shaking in her new, oversized, four poster bed.

Breathing heavily, she stared at the silhouette a moment before her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light and she could make out a man - half-naked, his hair tousled and a mixed look of concern and wry amusement on his face.

"Blake? What - what are you doing in here?" she asked, disentangling herself from the clinging sheets. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she realised that her pyjamas were clinging to her damp skin, and her tangled mess of hair had plastered itself to her face as she'd overheated.

"You were screaming," he said by way of explanation, still rubbing at his jaw. "I came in here to save you from whatever was attacking and you were curled up in a ball on the bed, screaming. I tried to wake you and" – he glanced at her humorously – "did you know you throw one hell of a punch?"

She stared at him, confused. Then realisation dawned in her eyes and her look changed to one of horror. "I - I did that? I'm so sorry!" Unthinkingly, she reached up to stroke his cheek where her fist had made contact.

He chuckled lightly, his eyes darkening slightly as he leaned into the caress, holding her hand against his face.

She stared at his hand over hers, hardly daring to breathe. The last remnants of the dream still holding her in its grip even as her fingers brushed the light stubble on his face and his warm breath caressed her wrist - his body radiating heat, warming her cold fingers.

Quiet, but purposeful movements outside the room broke the brief but intense spell and she swallowed a lump in her throat. Pulling her hand away from his, she stared down at the bed sheets intently. The feelings he evoked in her were unlike anything she had experienced before. No level of amnesia could make her forget such an intense attraction, surely? She blushed. What must he think of me?

"Hannah?" he asked softly.

She continued to twist the bed sheets around her fingers, not daring to look at him. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

She nodded, allowing her hair to fall across her face, hiding her embarrassment - acutely aware of his bare chest so close to hers as he hovered next to her anxiously. Peering through a curtain of red curls, she let her eyes roam across his broad shoulders; the strength in his arms evident in the curve of his biceps and the hard, unyielding muscle across his chest. Arms that had carried her. Pressed her against that chest, she reminded herself, and for one irrational moment she wished she'd been awake to remember what it felt like.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked her, oblivious to her gawping.

"I - don't know," she replied honestly, pulling her thoughts back to the present. Grateful for the shadows hanging over them both that hid her blushes from his piercing eyes.

"Every time I try to remember it, it slips further away from me.” She slid off the bed seeking refuge away from his intoxicating warmth. Looking anywhere but at his bare torso, her still-befuddled mind began searching for a brush to run through her hair. "Though, it's more like a nightmare," she admitted as she fumbled pointlessly in the darkness. "There are no real details that I can remember clearly, except for the lake." She paused. "I think there's a lake."

"Lake?" He watched her rummaging in the shadows with a carefully closed expression on his face. His eyes shone brightly, following her around the room intently and she had the strongest feeling he knew exactly what she'd just been thinking.

"Yes. It's surrounded by tall pine trees and mountains... and it's snowing, I think." She grimaced and sighed in frustration, giving up her pointless search and running her fingers frantically through the tangled locks instead, her back pressed firmly against the door. "I can never recall anything else about it. But I go there every night."

"Maybe it's a memory?" he suggested lightly, making no move to get off the bed: a Hunter trying not to scare off his prey.

She shuddered. "I hope not."

He raised his eyebrow at her.

"Something bad happens there," she struggled to explain, "I don't know what. The more I try to remember, the quicker it fades away... but I'm always afraid, when I wake up." Her legs were shaking from the renewed horror and she had an urge to sit down, but she wasn't about to risk getting so close to Blake again until she could control her traitorous pulse rate. "My heart pounds as though I've been running and my skin is all clammy and cold, even though I wake up covered in sweat."

"Maybe the lake is a memory. But not the dream itself," he reasoned quietly, his eyes watching her carefully. "It's the one detail you remember when you wake up, so maybe it's somewhere you've been before. In Scotland maybe?" His brow furrowed, "Though it would be called a loch not a lake, wouldn't it?" He smiled at her, an obvious attempt to put her at ease. "The mind is funny that way. It might be mixing up what happened to you recently with somewhere you know really well."

"Maybe," she murmured, unconvinced.

"Look," he said persuasively. "How about I make you a deal? You come and sit back down - I promise, I won't bite - and I'll tell you a secret that I haven't shared with anyone. Ever."

She studied him, smiling at her charmingly as he patted the bed beside him. His dark hair was ruffled, his body completely relaxed and his eyes shone with confidence.

"You're very good at persuading people to do what you want, aren't you?" she observed critically, even as her legs began to move all of their own accord.

His eyes widened and he began to laugh, a low chuckle that sent shivers of pleasure down her spine.

"I suppose I am." He looked her up and down pointedly, still chuckling and she realised that she was indeed sitting back on the bed again, despite her resolve not to.

She smiled at him ruefully. "Your turn," she pointed out.

"Caught by my own trap!" He grimaced. "Oh well. I also had a re-occurring dream when I was a child," hae began dramatically as though it was the greatest secret ever told.

She raised an eyebrow at him. That's it? That's the big secret?

"There was a clown - no laughing!" he protested, casting her a sidelong glance as she bit her lip. "He used to chase me around the territory all night long. He only ever came when it was dark, so my mother had to leave the light on or I would refuse to go to sleep. I never told her why."

The big bad wolf afraid to sleep in the dark... she tried to imagine Blake as a scared little boy, begging his mother not to turn out the light, but her mind wouldn't let go of the image of the man before her, all piercing eyes and tousled hair.

"Thing is, I remember where that clown came from, even now," he recalled with a grimace. "He was the entertainment at Asher's sixth birthday party. It was held on a beach in our coastal territory, a hundred plus miles from here" – he gestured eastwards – "But it always followed me home in my dreams."

"If your brother was six, you were...?"

"I was nine. Don't judge!" He laughed at the incredulous look on her face. "That thing was ridiculously scary. I refused point blank to come out of the water until he'd gone - I've always hated clowns. They're like, the exact opposite of fun and friendly." He pouted like a little boy, and she giggled, the last of the tension draining away.

"And you've never told this to anyone before?"

"Are you kidding?" He laughed ruefully. "After that party, my brothers teased me relentlessly for the rest of the year! I was the eldest so I wasn't supposed to be afraid of anything. I never would have heard the end of it if I'd admitted I was dreaming about it too! My mother covered for me on multiple occasions. I don't know how she knew.”

“Mothers always know,” Hannah murmured.

“The point is our mind often get things muddled up." He reached up and tucked an errant lock of her hair out of the way. "Remembering that lake could be a good thing, the start of your memories returning?"

She nodded slowly, the frown returning to her face. If the feeling of dread that followed her out of the dream was anything close to real, she'd rather those particular memories stay buried.

Blake's lips curled into a gentle smile and he stood up to leave, pulling the sheets aside so she could crawl back into the bed.

"Please stay." The words tumbling out of her mouth before she'd had a chance to think them through.

His eyebrows shot up.

"I - I mean the beds big enough" – Oh, Goddess! why did I say that? – "and I don't want to be alone."

Oh good, because that sounds much better.

"Not - not like that!" she stumbled on, blushing furiously as he smirked at her, his arms crossed over his naked chest. "I just - I need – "

...For a big hole in the ground to swallow me now.

"I don't want the dream to come back," she whispered finally, clamping her lips firmly together before she could complete the humiliation by blurting out just how safe she felt when he was around.

His dark eyes studied her as though attempting to figure her out, a smirk still hovering around his lips. Eventually he seemed to reach a decision: "Okay."

Really?

Without another word he walked to the dresser and pulled a sheet out of one of the drawers. Walking around to the other side of the bed, he settled himself carefully on top of the covers, pulling the sheet over himself like a blanket.

Still propped up on her elbows under the covers she stared at him, shocked that he'd agreed to her half-baked suggestion. He didn't move again, making no attempt to invade her space. Hannah had no idea how long she watched his silhouette in the darkness, resisting the urge to move closer to him. But eventually she settled down, strangely comforted by his presence.

After a short while his breathing evened out, a sure sign he'd gone to sleep. Her eyes already heavy, she allowed herself to drift off to the sound of his deep even breaths. She slept until dawn. The dream did not return.