Joy X Anger Novels & Stories

the young Alpha pleaded. “Say I love you too back, Joy and get your pansy drama over with. You still got rascals to fight and deal with, and don’t make me complain to mom that the perfect sextuplet was getting “it” on with her mate in the war zone,” Jax teased and threatened. “If you want my forgiveness, Lex then kill him,” Joy said while pointing at Jax and then glared at her punk of a brother for sporting two brazenly noticeable middle fingers at her.

He was already able to feel the thunder between his teeth because of the anger that he tried to endure with all his might. "hahaha... I'm not sure if you would dare to do such a thing, do you want to risk the good image of your family in front of everyone, the wonderful doctor Angel family. I know you don't have the courage to tarnish the image of your wonderful family, you loser..."Jay Park is back again.

Each cry felt like a physical blow, and it hurt. Then Joy called, and I almost kissed my phone in relief. I'd never been so grateful for anything in my life. "How did you…", I started. "Anna called me", Joy cut in, her voice uncharacteristically tense. "Put Layla on. Now". But even Joy's calm explanation did nothing to calm Layla's anger or stop the tears. "How could he?" The scream ripped from her throat–– primal, wounded. Her skin burned against mine, her pulse wild, frantic. The phone fell to the floor with a loud thud, Joy’s voice was still coming through the speaker.

My eyes narrowed, and my gut twisted with anger. Jayce, that sloppy bastard!

That simply means that some were happy about their death, and some were sad. Instant anger flowed through me at the moment. How dare they rejoice when he is mourning? How dare they derive joy from his sorrows? Clearing out the current H**P, I typed in Xavier’s family name. Something must have happened for people to feel that way. I clicked on the first result.

My heart skipped a beat. “How can I not be, Joy? Look at what you were about to do! This is sick, this is…” I ran my hands through my hair, trying to contain the surge of anger threatening to consume me as I looked for a way to get that device out of her hand without causing an accident. “But, Apollo, it wasn’t meant for you.” Joy argued, her voice breaking. “It was meant for Mia!” She whimpered, stomping her feet on the ground like a child on the verge of a tantrum.

I asked “You see Devonne, that’s the thing, I enjoy watching you fail, over and over, it’s satisfying to me and when I watch her kick your ass today again, I’ll take her to my bed and reward her by worshiping her body in a way……” “enough!” I snapped, but it wasn’t just my own anger that was coursing through me at the insult, it was Mela’s as well, he always did know how to rile her up without even knowing.

Sicily "What do you think you're doing?" she whispered angrily. "I'm reading the paper. Do you want to read it? If so, just ask." He chuckled and pulled it down. "How are you more beautiful when you're angry? It should be a crime." "Not funny. You're not a lawyer. You own the town gym. Everyone knows that. The cop is going to know that, so what the hell are you doing?" She hated the pissy sound of her voice, but the combination of needing him and not wanting to need him raged inside of her, threatening to spill over and ruin her composure.

Please note the sarcasm. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Joy's POV

’ For the first time since today, anger fills me instead of sadness as I think about all this, and I find myself talking out loud without even meaning to. “Well, asshole, you should have thought of that before you and your girlfriend decided to pile the jobs of five people, along with other numerous unnecessary tasks, on me for reasons best known to you both,” I declare furiously, surprising both myself and a middle-aged woman who happens to pass beside me right at that moment. She gives me an odd look and goes on her way, while I flush in embarrassment, wipe my eyes, and hurry towards the restaurant. Four or five minutes later, I’m seated at an empty table, waiting for the waiter to take my