And then nothing. He couldn’t dredge up the desire to give her what she sought, and it wasn’t fair to drag her into the pit with his black mood. Gently, he disentangled himself and removed her questing hand from his shorts.

“Sorry, beautiful, I’m not good company and I’m sure not getting anything accomplished. Rain check?”

“If that’s what you want,” she said with a tinge of disappointment. “Call me?”

“Sure.”

Neither of them believed he would.

As soon as she dressed and left, he tossed aside the almost-completed nude she’d been posing for, grabbed a blank canvas, and let his demons loose.

He ditched the soft flesh and earth tones for tints of red and orange, shades of black. What he couldn’t see with his eyes, his mind saw clearly enough: rivers of blood, broken bodies, brain matter, vacant eyes.

The weight of a ghost rifle replaced the brush to fill his hands, familiar and terrible. As awful as the knowledge that he was capable of taking out his target from a mile away and vanishing before anyone was the wiser.

Is this what I am?

A killer? A monster?

Why is this happening to me?

Pressure built in his chest, constricting his lungs as he slashed at the canvas, too massive to contain. Pushing outward, crushing him, until the rage exploded.

“Why?” he bellowed.

Grabbing the wooden frame, he smashed the canvas over the easel and kicked it, sending the whole structure flying. He whirled, subjecting his table full of paints, brushes, palettes, and thinners to the same treatment. They hit the floor with a resounding crash, which served only to fuel the madness rather than abating it.

Yelling his despair, he lunged toward the models’ stage area, searching for something else to destroy. Just as his life had been destroyed. His entire world.

He tripped over a chair, righted himself, picked the fucking thing up, and hurled it as hard as he could. Glass shattered in a huge, satisfying crash, but it still wasn’t enough.

He stalked toward the tinkling sound of falling glass, hardly aware of the sting on the soles of his feet. Intent only on finding something else to obliterate.

His foot snagged on something-a cord?-upsetting his balance. With his forward momentum, he couldn’t stop his fall. On reflex, he thrust his arms out in front of him as his body hurtled through jagged teeth that tore at his shirt, his skin. The air rushed from his lungs as he hit the ground hard and lay prone on the grass.

He was on his lawn? Which meant he’d taken out a section of the wall-to-ceiling glass in his studio. And plunged through the opening.

“My God, Jude!” Liam shouted. “What the fuck?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t think past the whirling cacophony in his head. The rage, the pain, that had nowhere to go.

Liam was crouched at his side in an instant, helping him to sit up. Strong arms encircled him from behind, hugging his chest. “Jesus Christ, what are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” He tried to breathe through the insanity, regain his balance. “There’s death all around me, because of me, and I can’t get away from it-”

“Easy, boss,” his friend whispered. “I’ve got you. They’re just nightmares, and you’re letting them get to you.”

He shook his head, clasped his trembling hands. “No. I think… maybe they’re real. I have a rifle in my hands, and I know how to kill. I’m good at it, damned good.”

Liam hugged him tighter. “Doesn’t necessarily mean anything. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, and-”

“I’m a monster,” he said, almost too low to hear.

“What? No,” Liam countered fiercely. “You’re my best friend, the finest man I know.”

His voice broke. “There’s something wrong with me. I’ve done terrible things, maybe on those trips when I didn’t tell you where I was going.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“Why didn’t I just die?” The plaintive question was out before he could stop it, but what did it matter? It was how he felt.

Liam scooted to face him, taking Jude’s cheeks in his hands. “Don’t ever say that again, do you hear me?”

The younger man’s lips moved against his, warm and pliant. Jude melted, a helpless sound escaping his throat. The turmoil inside eased as his friend swept his tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss. This was what he needed right now, not some fling with a lover like Tamara, nice as she might be.

He needed someone to assuage the hurt in his soul, someone he really cared about, who cared for him in return. Liam was a lifeline, had been there for him these past four years.

Their tongues tangled, the other man’s stroking the roof of his mouth, behind his teeth. Jude drank him in, reveling in his taste. A hint of a sweet treat he’d been making for dessert, perhaps. His erection hardened, no longer uncooperative, but eager to penetrate. To own the body pressed to his.

Liam broke the kiss first, trailing his fingers down Jude’s cheek. “We need to get you cleaned up. You’re bleeding.”

“Where?”

“Your neck and right arm got a couple of scratches.” He moved down Jude’s torso to his legs, checking every inch. “Small ones on the bottoms of your feet, too.”

“Damn. Yeah, they’re starting to sting some.”

“Come on.” Grasping Jude’s hand, Liam pulled him up. “Take my arm. Considering the mess you made, it’ll be faster than finding your cane.”

“God, I’m sorry,” he muttered, ashamed. “No telling how long it will take the housekeeper to clean up, and I can’t even be of help.”

“Forget about that-just leave it to us. I’ll call a window and glass company after I get you patched, and they’ll have it fixed in no time.”

“You’re too good to me, buddy.”

“I know.”

Liam’s quiet laugh made him feel marginally better, even though Jude had no clue how long the demons would be held at bay. He had a feeling the break wouldn’t last, but he’d take what comfort he could find.

“Can’t go in through the smashed window because of your bare feet. We’ll have to enter through the kitchen so you don’t track blood on the carpet.”

Liam led him carefully around the side of the house to the kitchen’s entrance. Wonderful aromas scented the air and Jude began to ask about dinner, but was distracted by another thought.

“Where’s Lily? I can’t believe she didn’t hear the commotion.”

“She’s not here. She borrowed the Mercedes and drove into the city to run a couple of errands. It is okay that I let her take your car, isn’t it?” Worry colored his friend’s voice.

“Yes, of course.” He was beyond grateful she hadn’t been around to witness his meltdown.

“Good. I should’ve asked first, though, or let her borrow mine.”

“Why? The Mercedes is more yours now than it is mine. I’m not likely to jump in the damned thing and take off.”

“Jude…”

He grimaced. “I know. Sorry.”

Liam hated his bitter sarcasm. God knew Jude did his best to stay positive, but on days like this one, it wasn’t easy.

Holding on to Liam’s arm, he let the man lead him out of the kitchen and down the tiled hallway. Instead of taking the stairs, however, they continued past.

“My room is closer,” his friend explained. “And it’s not far across the carpet from the door to the bathroom, so there will be less to scrub.”

Finally, they made it into Liam’s bathroom without mishap. “How do you want me?”

“Naked.”

Jude grinned. “A plan I can get behind.”

“Literally, I can tell,” Liam said in appreciation, squeezing Jude’s erection through his shorts. “First we have to take care of those scratches. Back up and park your butt on the counter.”

Releasing his crotch, Liam guided him backward. Jude braced his palms on the edge of the counter and hopped up, scooting into a comfortable position. Or as comfortable as he could be with his cock aching to be freed.

“Take off your T-shirt,” Liam ordered. A cabinet opened near Jude’s head and the other man rummaged through the contents.