"Mr. Maxwell," Neville called out nervously. He swallowed hard and tried again. "Mr. Maxwell. Grayson. Wake up."
Still nothing.
The pheromones in the room grew thicker, wrapping around him.
Focus, he convinced himself. You have to wake him up!
Then, something brushed against his lower back.
Neville froze.
The sensation came again. It was a slow, deliberate stroke that traced up his spine. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly, very slowly, turned his head to look behind him.
It was Grayson's tail.
It curved through the air lazily with the tip flicking against his waist in what could only be described as caressing.
It was really massive and beautiful.
"Is it a lizard's tail?" Neville's voice came out strangled. His brain scrambled to process what his eyes were seeing. "No, no, scratch that—Grayson was a beastman too?"
On the bed, Grayson stirred.
