The moonlight was pale over the Vortellion estate, slipping through the high windows like ghostly fingers. In the quiet of his room, the pain pulsed in Dorian's throat like a living thing. He groaned softly, clutching at his neck as he stepped into his room. His legs were shaky. His breath came in uneven huffs.
Lucien had almost crushed his windpipe. Almost!
He staggered towards the mirror above his dresser, unbuttoning his uniform with trembling fingers.
"I never thought..." he whispered hoarsely, staring at his reflection. "That he would ever... do this to me."
Lucien had never hurt him before. Not even when he was a child, not even when angry. But tonight, his hand had tightened around Dorian's throat with a fury that hadn't felt human. If he hadn't broken free... He would have been dead. The unsettling scene played in his head over and over again. His lungs were filled with Lucien's strong Pheromones that almost choked him to death if his throat hadn't been crushed.
