Prologue

Jorel walked into the room and knew instantly it had been a trap. His father must still be mad about what happened with White Tiger and his mate. It had been over six months since the incident. And truthfully, he was the one whose reputation had been damaged.
“Glad to see you could join us.” His father walked down from the golden throne. The old man moved much too fast for one supposedly so old. He hurried down to Jorel and pulled him into an embrace. “Now was not the day to keep our guests waiting.”
Guests? The room was empty except for his father and mother. “I don’t see anyone.” Jorel’s heart raced as he pulled in the scent of his father’s anticipation. The old man was up to something. Something that centered on Jorel. Something he wouldn’t like.
“Open the doors,” his father told the guards hidden near the doors.
The doors to the throne room opened, and scores of their extended family and friends marched in. All of them in formal dress. This nonsense better not be about finding a mate. He’d already done a tour of the eligible ladies and, although some of them were an enjoyable diversion, none had been his mate.
The crowd lined the walkway leading to the thrones. The king pulled in a deep breath, and Jorel fought down the urge to slap a hand over the older man’s mouth.
“As you know, our people are dying. Our women are unable to bear the children we need to keep our race alive. Too many of our babies are gone before they are weaned. If something is not done soon, it will be as if we were never here.”
Murmurs raced through the crowd. His father was not saying anything they didn’t already know. Their race was dying despite the aggressive efforts of their best scientist.
“I have found a solution,” the king continued. “A solution that can save us all. It is unconventional, expensive, and a little distasteful, but it is our only choice.” He pulled in another breath then rushed on. “Many of you were present when the rogue, White Tiger, and his mate fought in this very room. I have been in contact with him for several months, and his mate has recently birthed two cubs. Both healthy, both able to withstand our sun. Now—”
The sound of the crowd overpowered his father’s voice.
“Blasphemy.”
“Half-breeds.”
“No breeds.”
“Quiet!” The king roared. “We can either follow his example and save our people, our families, or die out and leave the planet to him and the descendants of those like him. Make no mistake; many have made the same inquiries as I have.
“To save our people we must introduce new blood. Those of you who find this too distasteful can leave. But know this. Those who leave will not be welcomed back.” His father’s booming voice brooked no argument.
Jorel watched to see who would break with the king. No one left the room. That should have reassured him, but seeing the disgust written on several faces increased his unease.
“To demonstrate my belief in this project, my son, Prince Jorel, will be the first one matched.”
Shock whipped through him. He snapped his head around to stare at his father. This could not be happening. His father actually wanted to taint the royal bloodline with that of an inferior species?
“I believe our guests are here.”
A boom sounded against the doors of the throne room. When the king waved a hand, the guards opened the doors. White Tiger and his pack mate entered the room. Behind them walked a black-hooded figure. Jorel couldn’t see the face, but the hands were those of a withered crone.
“Father?”
His father whispered to him, “No. You will not break from me. If you do, our kingdom will be lost. There are those who would consider your departure a sign that our time as the head family is over. Would you like to see them kill your mother?”
His mother? No. But right now, he could not say the same about his father. Using Jorel as a test subject did not sit well. Not at all.
Barrick, White Tiger, stepped to the king. “The Traveler has said she will touch none but the one she is to find the mate for. The fee is non-negotiable and offers no guarantees. If she does not find a mate in time she will, of course, refund all credits.”
“What does he mean, in time?” Jorel asked.
“What that means is if I do not find you a mate in time, you will die.” The voice came from beneath the black shroud. “Surviving without one’s heartstone is difficult. And over time, the body and spirit will wither. How long this takes depends on the person.”
Jorel didn’t like talking to those he couldn’t see. Truth was in the eyes. This might all be a trap or a scheme to bilk the royal family out of credits.
“It is agreed.” His father nodded his head, and the hooded figure approached Jorel.
He was trapped. If he stopped them or backed away from that thing, he would be labeled a coward. And after his fight with White Tiger six months ago, he couldn’t afford the slightest sign of weakness.
When the wrinkled hand hit his chest, he could not help the sharp intake of breath. At first, her fingers splayed across the thin hair that covered his entire body as if searching, and the next thing he knew, an intense pain jerked through his body. Her hand squeezed around his heart. It burned, and shockwaves of agony rocked him. Looking down, he would have sworn blood should have been gushing from a wound, but there was nothing. His chest was pristine.
She twisted and turned her fist, and just as he felt his legs about to give out from under him, she pulled hard, and her fist sprang free. Jorel breathed a sigh of relief and immediately felt the loss.
The Traveler stepped back several feet then opened her hand. A clump of blackness shaped like a heart sat in her palm. She turned her hand and stepped back into White Tiger’s pack mate. The man grabbed her by the shoulders as they both went down. The Traveler’s hood fell back, and the entire room went quiet.
Instead of the crone Jorel had been expecting, the woman on the floor was easily the most beautiful creature he’d ever happened upon. Just as fast as he took in the sight of her in color, the rest of the room turned into shades of grey with only of a hint of the original color left. He looked down to the black heart and realized it had cracked in two.
“What is going on here?” his father asked, pushing Jorel behind him.
“I have been at this a long time, and I have never come across a heart so filled with darkness and despair.”
“What are you saying?”
“I cannot help your son. There are no mates for those who possess a black heart.”
“So put it back.”
“I can’t. The heartstone is intended for his mate.”
“Wait. It’s not all black,” the queen said, approaching them. Her slight frame glided to them like a living piece of fire in her red and orange gown.
They all looked down. Inside the blackness was a shiny glint of white. The Traveler bent down and brushed away the cracked black edges. When she stood, she held in her hands a perfect pearlescent heart. It was no bigger than the tip of his finger, but at this point, he’d take it. It was better than the alternative.
“Is it big enough?” the queen asked in an uncharacteristically worried voice.
“I will do what I can, but with only a tiny piece of his heart, his time will be short.”
The king and queen grabbed hands but nodded. White Tiger hit a button on his wrist and he, the Traveler, and his pack mate all disappeared.
His father had signed Jorel’s death warrant. How long did he have? A day? A week? A month?