And even now he left them exposed, as if daring her to react to the ugly testament to his past.
So…why?
Thankfully Regan managed to recover her voice before he could consider his motives too deeply. They no doubt were something that should remain a mystery.
“You were tortured for three centuries, and you don’t remember why?” she husked, the sympathy shimmering in her beautiful eyes not nearly so repulsive as it should have been.
“When a human is turned into a vampire, they have no memory of their previous life. My sins were committed while I was still a Visigoth chief.”
“They must have been doozies.”
Jagr shuddered. It didn’t matter how many centuries passed, he would never forget the vampire who had held him captive.
Kesi had been a member of the Egyptian royalty before being turned, and she had retained all the proud beauty of her ancestors. The dark almond-shaped eyes, the smoothly burnished skin, the sleek black hair that had flowed like a curtain of satin down her slender back.
Ah, yes, she had been lovely.
And as poisonous as an asp.
She might have captured him in the name of revenge, but she had kept him out of a twisted, obsessive need to inflict pain. He hadn’t been her only victim in her private pits of hell.
“The vampire who turned me claimed that I led my clan into the local lair and slaughtered a dozen vampires, including her mate,” he explained, pleased as always by the thought that he had dealt Kesi a painful blow, even if he couldn’t remember it. “Unfortunately, I was captured during the raid.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t just kill you. Why make you a vampire?”
“Obviously you missed the Saw movies. Humans are far too fragile to survive more than the vanilla brand of torture. To be truly creative, you need a creature that can endure pain. And, of course, there’s always the bonus of making me immortal, so my punishment could last an eternity.”
“Dear God.” She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes shimmering with tears. “How did you escape?”
The memory of blood-soaked tunnels filled with vampires and demons he’d ripped apart with his bare hands was washed away by the glitter of tears trickling down her cheeks.
Bemused by the odd phenomenon, Jagr cupped her face in his hands and wiped the dampness with his thumbs.
“I killed them,” he murmured, his voice thickening with something other than ancient anger.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
His lips twitched. “They weren’t nearly so pleased.”
A silence descended as Regan studied him with a searching gaze. Jagr didn’t flinch. He’d always feared that confessing the truth would make him feel vulnerable, exposed. Instead, he felt…cleansed.
Perhaps it was Regan’s sweet tears that washed away a portion of the bitterness that festered in his soul.
At last, she sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”
“I meant I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you when you said you understood. You do.” Her lips curved in a watery smile. “More than anyone.”
“Yes.”
“And that’s why you haven’t forced me to Chicago.”
Jagr hid his flare of wry amusement. If she wanted to believe that was the only reason he hadn’t tossed her over his shoulder and hauled her to Chicago, then so be it.