Cover

Letter to Reader

Dear Reader:

Years ago, when I was a baby writer and not yet published, I wrote Marked by Moonlight. It was the second book I ever wrote—a paranormal romance about two people falling in love against impossible odds. This book came before my dragon era and stands as a precursor to the stories I subsequently dreamed up featuring supernatural characters/fantasy worlds. I felt only great joy and gratitude to Simon & Schuster for publishing this book back then… and again now. It’s a humbling experience to see the journey of Claire and Gideon come back around for a new generation of readers.

This story expresses my profound love of romance and the attitudes and trends that were so popular at the time: werewolves, vampires, fae, and alpha heroes—oh my!! Like all romance, this story is full of optimism and hope in a way that is special and unique to the romance genre. If you’re new to Marked by Moonlight, I hope you enjoy this beautiful new edition. If you’re an old friend, welcome back!

Happy reading,

Sophie Jordan

“A thoroughly tantalizing tale! Sophie Jordan knows how to deliver a riveting plot, steeped with sultry sexual tension and unforgettable love scenes between an irresistible hero and heroine—outstanding paranormal romance.”

—Kresley Cole, author of Wicked Deeds on a Winter’s Night

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Title Page

Dedication

To my little princess, whose fascination with the paranormal already rivals my own.

I promise, one day you can read Mommy’s werewolf book.

PROLOGUE

Never turn your back on an unfamiliar dog.

—Man’s Best Friend: An Essential Guide to Dogs

They were coming. The 911 operator’s voice droned steadily in his ear, urging him to stay on the line, to wait, to remain as he was, crouched in a ball at the side of his bed. But when a second howl rent the night air, the phone slipped through his fingers and thudded softly to the carpet. Gideon drifted to the bedroom door as if pulled by an invisible string.

They were coming. But not soon enough.

With a shaking hand, he grasped the doorknob, the brass cold and slick in his sweaty palm. His family was on the other side of that door. He couldn’t wait. Filling his lungs with a deep breath, he pushed open the door, the creak of oil-hungry hinges a familiar sound in an unfamiliar night.