Linda Jones - Raintree - Oracle

When are you going to kiss me again?

The answer to that unasked question should be never. But damn, there was something irresistible about Echo Raintree. Instead of being horrified, she actually gave in to a small, secret smile that spoke volumes. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. The only difference was she had no idea how dangerous a deepening connection between them might be. For her. Dammit, he had to keep the woman out of his brain!

As powerful as she was—and lack of control aside, she was quite powerful—she could be more. The weather power that revealed her mood; her ability to see into his mind; her clear empathic abilities. If he didn’t know better he’d think she was like him. A sponge. A receptor.

A dangerous creature.

The two of them together could rule the world. Or burn it down around them.

“Echo …” Should he send her away or embrace her? Teach or shun? Pull her to him or make sure there were always thousands of miles between them?

LINDA WINSTEAD JONESis a bestselling author of more than fifty romance books in several subgenres—historical, fairy tale, paranormal, contemporary and romantic suspense. She is also a six-time RITA ®Award winner and (writing as Linda Fallon) winner of the 2004 RITA ®Award for paranormal romance. Linda lives in north Alabama with her husband of fifty-two years. She can be reached via lindawinsteadjones.com.

Raintree: Oracle

Linda Winstead Jones

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Linda Howard, fabulous writer, partner in crime,

travel buddy, and most of all, good friend.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt When are you going to kiss me again? The answer to that unasked question should be never. But damn, there was something irresistible about Echo Raintree. Instead of being horrified, she actually gave in to a small, secret smile that spoke volumes. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. The only difference was she had no idea how dangerous a deepening connection between them might be. For her. Dammit, he had to keep the woman out of his brain! As powerful as she was—and lack of control aside, she was quite powerful—she could be more. The weather power that revealed her mood; her ability to see into his mind; her clear empathic abilities. If he didn’t know better he’d think she was like him. A sponge. A receptor. A dangerous creature. The two of them together could rule the world. Or burn it down around them. “Echo …” Should he send her away or embrace her? Teach or shun? Pull her to him or make sure there were always thousands of miles between them?

About the Author LINDA WINSTEAD JONES is a bestselling author of more than fifty romance books in several subgenres—historical, fairy tale, paranormal, contemporary and romantic suspense. She is also a six-time RITA ® Award winner and (writing as Linda Fallon) winner of the 2004 RITA ® Award for paranormal romance. Linda lives in north Alabama with her husband of fifty-two years. She can be reached via lindawinsteadjones.com .

Title Page Raintree: Oracle Linda Winstead Jones www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication For Linda Howard, fabulous writer, partner in crime, travel buddy, and most of all, good friend.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Autumn in the North Carolina mountains was always special. Even after serving six years as keeper of the Raintree Sanctuary, the beauty of the place and the season was not lost on Echo. The days were cooler now, and she liked that. The leaves on the trees had turned enticing shades of gold, orange and red. These early-morning walks along a wooded trail were for her and her alone. The rest of the day might be spent handling Sanctuary business, but each day began just this way, with a long walk and blessed solitude.

Suddenly her vision dimmed, and an instant later a burst of bright light blinded her. Echo dropped to her knees, hard, then fell forward, grasping at the dirt and small stones on the trail with her fingertips, trying to hold on so the world wouldn’t spin out from under her. For a split second she was able to think, and what initially came to her was I’m too young to have a stroke! But then thought was gone, the images bombarded her and she realized this was no stroke.

There was water, lots of it. Icy-cold salt water filled her nose and her mouth; she choked on it. It burned. She could not breathe. The two worlds—hers and theirs—merged. She was prone on a dirt trail on Sanctuary land, holding on for dear life, but she was also there . And she was drowning.

The boat was sinking, going down fast. Water rushed in, sweeping people off their feet and away, pushing them under the cold water. The forceful and icy water swirled around her legs, pushing and pulling until she, too, fell and was washed deep into the sea. She screamed, and water filled her lungs.

There were one hundred and three souls on board; she knew that in a way she could not explain. Though she was underwater and for all intents and purposes drowning as so many already were, she heard the panicked cries of those who had not yet been swept under the dark waters. They were all screaming for help, and they were all going to die...

And then it was over.

Echo felt as if she’d been kicked by a mule, but she blinked twice, three times. She caught her breath and rolled onto her back. Her entire body trembled; her knees were weak, and she remained cold. So cold. She wasn’t sure how long the vision had lasted. Even though it had seemed like seconds while she’d been caught up in it, she noticed that the sun had moved a bit higher in the sky. The morning was growing warmer.

She didn’t sob, but silent tears streamed down her face. Her lower lip bled; she’d either cut it when she fell or had bitten it during the vision.

All her life she’d dreamed of disasters as they were happening. Sometimes she’d go a few days without a nightmare, but she’d never gone more than a week, maybe eight days, without one. Now and then she might see a disaster before it took place, but not often. Not nearly often enough.

This was new. For the third time in a little over a month, a vision had come to her while she was awake. Each one had stopped her dead in her tracks, had thrown her to the ground—or the floor—and had twisted her body and mind as she suffered along with the victims. She’d always hated the nightmares; she’d dreaded them. But this...this was so much harder. This particular vision had been far more vivid than any of the others, much too real. What if they were getting worse?

If she had not been pulled out of the vision in time, would she have drowned with the others? Would she have died on the trail that had, until a short time ago, been such a place of peace?