"You're not researching female alphas for Fiona." A simple statement, not a question.
His voice lowered to an impossibly deeper register, and he leaned in until there couldn't have been more than an inch between our faces. "What the fuck are you really doing, Newt? No, I'm not waiting for the weekend. No, I'm not buying any more bullshit. You're going to sit down and tell me what the hell is going on."
"I don't need to answer to you for—"
"Sit. Down!"
I stumbled back and fell into the desk chair like he'd cut my strings, the chair rattling and screeching under me.
Colin shoved the door shut and stalked me a lot more effectively than I'd stalked him, pinning me where I sat with the force of his…well, it wasn't a glare.
I'd have expected a glare, but this was something different. Something a lot harder to categorise and a lot harder to deal with, because as I blinked up at him, my fingers flexing nervously on the arms of the chair, he simply—looked at me. Expectantly.
