I was challenging him with my gaze, but this was neither a joke nor a mockery.
"I will not stand before you, but behind you," Varg said with a raspy breath. "Go."
Even as he said go, his voice resonated as if a fire were smoldering in his chest. His mouth commanded me to leave, but he refused to look me directly in the eyes. No matter what lies his lips spun, his eyes were pleading with me to stay. That was the innate flaw of an Alpha: he could not put a bridle on his emotions. Alphas could restrain neither their ambition nor their passion. Their mouths, which could never quite master the art of deceit, were incapable of decorating those false "just go" sentences.
His eyes gave everything away. Looking into Varg's eyes was like staring into a black mirror that revealed his very marrow and bones, as if he had been stripped of his skin.
