Bodies filled the gap between them, shuffling forward with the determination of people who had waited too long already.
Neville could still see Grayson's black hair above the crowd, but the distance grew with each passing second. The pheromones pressed in from all sides, assaulting his vomeronasal organ.
Ugh!
His eyes were already swimming, his ears were ringing.
Suddenly, a large, firm hand clamped onto Neville's arm. The hand instantly pulled him out of the flow of the human current.
Neville looked up to find that Grayson had somehow carved a path back to him, his eyes sharp with concern. His grip felt protective, almost possessive.
"What's wrong with you?" Grayson asked, sharp with concern as he pulled Neville flush against his side.
"Too many... pheromones," Neville managed to gasp out, his hand clutching at Grayson's shirt.
"Stay close," Grayson said, his voice low enough that only Neville could hear.
The crowd surged again.
More elbows. More pheromones.
