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Informationen zum Autor Sharie Kohler is a New York Times , USA TODAY , and internationally bestselling author who also writes historical romances and a paranormal young adult series under the name Sophie Jordan. Visit her website at SharieKohler.net. Klappentext Sharie Kohler dazzles with the dark, sensual world of the Moon Chasers, where two half-breed lycans are locked in deadly combat over the fate of the world—and their own hearts. Sorcha is no longer the pitiful teenage orphan who roamed the streets of Paris after her pack was destroyed, but despite all she now has—wealth, beauty, strength—she is still haunted by memories of Jonah, her fellow half-breed who broke her innocent young heart years before, and who now believes her dead. Determined to drive Jonah from her dreams forever, Sorcha vows to kill the witch whose curse first condemned the lycans to soulless immortality . . . doomed to be ruled by their dark passions, yet never truly able to love or be loved. Still devastated over the girl he failed, Jonah has found purpose as a demon slayer. When a stranger starts stalking the world’s most powerful demon witch, he is assigned to kill the huntress before her meddling releases an evil that threatens all mankind. Face-to-face again at last, can Sorcha and Jonah put their anger and hurt behind them to defeat the darkness . . . and dare they hope to find a love neither dreamed possible? ONE TWELVE YEARS LATER … Sorcha stared at the street below and felt a lonely chill watching the people flow past like so many fish in a stream. At this hour, they were couples mostly, and groups, out for the evening, heedless of the lightly falling rain. They existed simply, taking their pleasures, living their uncomplicated lives. A couple passed directly below, hand in hand, crossing her building’s front door. The woman’s laughter drifted up, curling like sultry smoke on the air. Sorcha followed her brightly bouncing scarf as she faded down the cracked, uneven sidewalk into the water-soaked night. Humans had no clue that creatures like Sorcha existed, walked among mankind, observing from the shadows. They could never know. Strange how life worked. As a girl she’d desperately craved the moment when she would grow up and transition and become like Jonah. So he could finally love her. So her father would approve of her and no longer frighten her. Now here she stood, a dovenatu, powerful and strong. Alone. Rain shivered down the glass surrounding her top-floor loft. She’d bought the building a year ago, shortly after Gervaise’s death. It was a world away from the Central Park penthouse she’d shared with her husband. As far as anyone knew, the rundown building was just one of many sandwiched together in the crowded Soho neighborhood. No one would ever expect that the wife of the late tycoon Gervaise Laurent lived within its molded brick walls. Precisely why she’d bought it. That and the windows. They gave her a view of the world she could only ever observe from the fringes. Flattening a palm on the cold glass, she exerted the slightest pressure … as though she would break through and leave everything behind. Fly away from the memories of her pack—from Jonah —and now Gervaise. All dead. She shuddered, chafing her arms. Nothing was left. Nothing except an appetite for revenge that fed her heart. Alone since Gervaise’s death, the dark beast inside her prowled, clawing to come out. She could deny it no longer, not with this constant hunger for vengeance. She had become as dangerous as her father, her mother—consumed by a thirst for the blood of whatever thing had killed her husband. Her pulse beat faster as she recognized a shiny town car slowing and pulling up at the curb below. Finally, she was here. Sorcha watched as the woman stepped onto the sidewalk littered with bags of late-night trash. Hop...
