Jealousy And Rage Novels & Stories

She was mine by right, by history, by everything we'd built together before I'd destroyed it. My hands clenched into tight fists, the knuckles turning white as my fingernails dug into my palms hard enough to draw blood. Small crescents of pain bloomed where my nails broke skin. I could feel one of the stitches on my ribs pop from the tension, a warm trickle of fresh blood seeping into the new bandage, but I didn't care. The jealousy was a living, breathing monster inside my chest, clawing at my lungs and squeezing my heart until I thought it might burst. It consumed every rational thought, every survival instinct, leaving only raw, primal possession in its wake.

“Are you jealous?” Those words sent flames all over my body. I turned to him, my voice trembling. “Don’t reduce what I’m feeling right now to just jealousy. It’s more than that. It’s anger and hurt.”

Angioletto's Pov Anger. I feel it so deep in my bones and my bloodstreams. I feel it so deep the glare of my eyes could slice through a skin. I feel it so deep my words could cut so deep, and my temperature so high it could burn the entire world. Rage, anger, joy, happiness, jealousy, envy, confusion—these emotions have had little or no impact on me for years until her. Until Oceane. It’s like she came in and stirred up a great eruption in me.

A woman who could make him forget every name but her own. The emotion that surged through Jaye was so violent that it stole her breath. It was a white-hot, possessive rage that made her fingers curl into her palms, her nails biting into the soft skin. No one could drive him crazier than she could. No one could draw those sounds from him. He was hers. The realization hit her like a physical blow, and she finally understood. This wasn't about love. It was about the primal, ugly jealousy of a child who refused to share its favorite toy. Tyler’s body, his pleasure, his release, they were her domain and hers alone.

It's a visceral, heart-wrenching experience that takes hold of us when we least expect it, and it can transform the brightest of days into the darkest of nights. Jealousy, often referred to as the green-eyed monster, is a complex and powerful emotion. It can strike anyone, anywhere, at any time. It begins as a subtle whisper, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach, and before you know it, it has taken root in your heart, engulfing you in a whirlwind of torment and despair.

It left me clean and shaky and angrier than before. Jealousy is hunger with a smart mouth. It tells me to bite my way back to his attention. It tells me to walk into his war room and put my throat in his hand and remind him I am the promise that bleeds the same. It tells me to get loud. He hates when I get loud when the pack can hear; it makes him a man instead of a myth and he hates being the only man in front of those who need him to be weather.

She also hadn’t drawn his c-ck, and if she’d seen that, Cameron was certain that it would have rated a drawing. The rage in Cameron seemed to blister the inside of his ribs. He had never felt such anger as he had done since the girl had first recoiled from him, and it seemed to grow every day. He wanted to crush her, he wanted to make her cry, and he wanted snap at Rhett whenever he caught his dark-haired mate staring at her. The rage had another name, one which Cameron was not comfortable with. Jealousy.

I know I was acting like a possessive boyfriend and I hated it to my core but I couldn't help myself nor could I say it out that I was jealous I couldn't help the rage that coursed through me as I glared viciously at her trembling little frame on the couch as she gasped for air, rubbing her hands on her neck as she coughed vigorously. I wanted nothing but to fill her with my essence until she thought about no one else but me and me alone. I stared down at her as my venomous ràge was slowly mixed with a vicious lust that I couldn't understand. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why is the mere sight of her helplessness and pain turning me the fuck on! or was it just anger?

Jealousy surged within me, an uncontrollable fire threatening to consume my senses. My grip tightened on the steering wheel as I watched them, my mind inundated with irrational thoughts. I wanted to storm into that restaurant, to pull Lyza away from that man and claim her as my own. It pained me to see her with another, even though we had not yet established a formal relationship. The possessiveness within me reared its ugly head, a primal instinct that yearned to mark her as mine. In the depths of my jealousy, I found myself engaging in a heated conversation with myself, my voice tinged with possessiveness and longing.

I never considered myself a jealous man. Never, truly. I’ve always prided myself on a serene control over my emotions, a calculated reason that always triumphed over impulses. But now, as I see Alexander approaching Aria, something within me trembles and shatters. My blood boils in thick waves, a latent, fierce anger that I barely recognize. This feeling, like a bitter poison, floods my mind and paralyzes me.