Trevor turned from the window, the faint reflection of lightning playing across his cheekbones. "That's the point," he said gently. "You need to see what happens when you stop holding back."
Lucas gave a soft, humorless huff. "That's the thing. I don't even know how to hold back or let go. It's not a switch. It's…" He gestured vaguely, words failing him. "It's like asking me to breathe underwater because you're sure I have gills somewhere."
"Then let's find them," Trevor replied.
Windstone glanced up from his datapad, his tone mild but factual. "Your Grace, perhaps you might start with something simple. Try reaching for your scent the way you would for your voice."
Lucas arched a brow. "That's your grand strategy? Whisper my pheromones into existence?"
Windstone didn't blink. "It works for some."
Trevor tried, valiantly, not to laugh. "Go on, love. Pretend you're whispering to the air."
Lucas shot him a glare that should have melted steel. "You are so lucky you're attractive."
