Jealousy And Rage Novels & Stories

The path to a future with Beatrice was still uncertain, filled with challenges and obstacles that stood in the way, her baby. I couldn't help following her every movement, when I saw her smiling and talking with that guy, I clenched my jaw hard but when I saw him holding her hand, i felt an overwhelming surge of pure rage seeped into my bones. It felt as though a storm was brewing inside me, a tempest of jealousy, anger, and possessiveness. The sight of someone else touching her, ignited a fire within me. I struggled to contain the tumultuous emotions that threatened to consume me whole.

And worst of all, it’s my damned pride that keeps me chained to it. When I saw her pushed to the ground in front of the banquet hall, a blinding rage tore through me. But then Gamma Sylas rushed forward, full of worry and care, and something inside me snapped. Jealousy. Raw and violent flooded my chest. I wanted nothing more than to run down there, grab her, and take her as far away from Sylas as possible. Instead, all I could do was stand there, glaring daggers into Sylas's back, my jaw clenched so tight I could taste blood in my mouth.

“Whoa! Cora, stay right where you are. Let’s talk whatever makes Iris mad. I am sure she has a reason.” “Just sit the down, Frost! Yeah, someone made me bitchier if it’s even a word. It makes us also bitchy when someone doesn’t care how we feel, and that’s what pushes us to do something vengeful. Let me guess, from insecurities maybe? Envy? I know a lot of factors, and I can give you one.” I cocked my brow. “Rage, antagonism? Out of jealousy, maybe?” “Jealous of you?” She laughed, mocking me, but no one seemed to find it funny. “Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” she ranted angrily.

The Goddess whose magic was currently scratching at my insides clapped her hands together and grinned, “I can’t tell you how pleased I was to see that you brought her along. Her jealousy is delicious. So savage—so bloodthirsty!” “Control yourself, little wolf. Nothing happened between us, I swear it.” He pleaded softly. “Don’t you see?” I snarled through gritted teeth. “I. Can’t.” “What is the meaning of this?” Elias’s oceanic eyes darted between the three of us, ignoring Juniper completely. “What trouble have you caused now, Jade?” The joy on her face soured, sharpening the soft curves of her cheeks until they appeared sharp enough to cut. As the hair growing along my arms lifted, I realize

she said with contempt, her face flushed with anger. The rage of jealousy is so strong that it compels one to do anything foolish. Miguel de Cervantes.

The blood in his blood vessels seemed to be burning, and his temples were beating wildly. Jealousy turned into rage, and the killing intent in his eyes boiled.

"It wouldn't matter if she didn't constantly want to drive me crazy." "Yeah, because you're angry, I think you're jealous." "Jealousy? Why should I be jealous?" "If you're not jealous, why should you care what Madison does? If you're not jealous then why are you upset when you see Madison with your husband?" "Not jealous, but a little annoyed." Jennifer replied. When Jennifer finished, Aline laughed and replied. "Discomfort is the first manifestation of jealousy, you idiot." Jennifer was silent for a while and then continued:

Jealousy, hate, envy, anger, and the other emotions and shadings in between, Hunter experienced. They were stark, comprehensible, invigorating. They fed him and the whisper grew louder. It was not something separate from himself. It was more as if something deep within was welling up, crowding out Hunter’s own thoughts and desires, filling him with . . . hunger, rage.

"Pregnant too? Bet that's how she locked him in. Smart move, but come on, it's obvious. Hanlon's gonna eat him alive if he's this unhinged." The words slithered through the air, venomous and unchecked, a chorus of jealousy, doubt, and schadenfreude fueled by Hanlon's machinations. I felt my cheeks burn, not with shame, but with a fierce, protective fury—the pup kicking harder now, as if sensing my distress and urging me to fight back. I stood from my desk, ready to snap at the nearest whisperer, my hands trembling with rage.

Not because of my dubious past as a lowly maid, but because of who I had become: harder, resilient, someone who wouldn't easily be set aside. And yet, even as I told myself that Ella was jealous, nothing more than a colleague threatened by me, my mind simply would not let the niggling feeling go. The way her eyes followed me, with hate; the bunching of her jaw each time Dante spoke of me. It was more than jealousy. It was rage, drawn and held, not the sort of emotion that would finally start to wither over time. An air of tension was heavy amongst us as creaking announced the opening of the door once again; footsteps entered the room revealing a man whose presence commanded respect, thudding