The Taste Of Revenge Novels & Stories

My teeth ached from gripping. Revenge is not a single strike. It is a long, patient thing that makes small demands until the edifice collapses. I had reach. I had time. And when I said I had nothing left to lose, the truth of it stung my tongue like salt. ************ AUTHOR’S NOTE Hi beautiful readers,

Something twisted in his chest. His fingers gripped the coat tighter. Knuckles white. Throat burning. Was this what he wanted? Revenge? Retribution? But then… His lips curled. Because pain? Pain was the price of pride. And vengeance? Vengeance was finally, exquisitely sweet. But the next words he would hear, Will completely Shattered him.

After a split second, he had her held hopelessly beneath him, and he glared menacingly down at her during the entire ordeal. He muttered in a frightening tone, "You're right, woman," as she resisted and laughed while being held down by him. He held her wrists while he lifted himself slightly to cast a leering, appraising view over her body. He said, "Taking you to court might be a little drastic, but I am entitled to some revenge for the torture you've put me through these past months, and I think I know just how to go about it." He said this as he raked a leering, appraising eye over her body. He asked the question in a tone that suggested he was a prosecuting attorney with sensual cravings

The only reason I hadn't until now was because I recognised the part that was drawn to her and whatever those files revealed of her past, I didn't want it to interrupt with my revenge plans for my sister. White spurts of my come splashed on her face, decorating her cheek, chin and the corner of her mouth. I watched as her tongue darted out and licked the corner of her lips and she closed her eyes, tasting me like it was some tasty fûcking dessert. A look of pure bliss crossed her face before she schooled her features and looked at me. I almost smiled. She was fûcking perfect. And day by day it was getting hard to consider her nothing but a pawn in my revenge. Fûck.

Reese would have nothing. Cynthia glanced at me, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Ready to destroy them?” I smiled, feeling the adrenaline coursing through my veins. “More than ready.” It was time for revenge. And nothing could stop us now. I could already taste the victory. The sweet, intoxicating taste of revenge.

He gave me a small, knowing smile, then told his men to escort my former friend out. I watched her go—defeated again. And still, all I felt was bitterness sitting heavy on my tongue. “You know,” I said quietly, forcing a faint smile, “the aftertaste can ruin even the sweetest first impression.” “That’s inevitable,” he replied. “Revenge feels sweet at first. Then the bitterness sets in—and that’s what stays with you.” “I don’t regret it. Not for a second.” I crossed my arms. “I’ll never regret putting that bitch in her place. If not me, then who?”

He made absolutely sure he implanted his favorite quote to me, while growing up, which I made sure, did not go six feet under, with him. It states thus; Revenge tastes better when served cold. But war is a meal that must be devoured, scorching hot. With every bite, a reminder of the blood that has been spilled, and every fucking swallow, a Vow, never to forget the price that was paid. I think it is safe to say, my revenge plan is at a fucking zero degrees Celsius, and the impending war, which I simply cannot wait for, would be a meal that would never in my lifetime be forgotten.

I manage to convince myself that I'm doing the right thing. I turn to face him, my gaze drawn to his eyes. His stern gaze reminds me of someone I can't forget. His lips graze my skin, sending butterflies fluttering in my stomach as his lips curve into a seductive smile. I avert my gaze, focusing on pouring myself another drink from the bottle. The strong alcohol has a slightly bitter taste, leaving visible lines on my forehead. I turn back to him, signaling to another waiter who quickly approaches. "Give me some shots of tequila." He turns back to me, taking the glass from my hand, filling it and taking a drink.

SWEET REVENGE. XENIA'S POV. I shouldn't be a mess in my second life after the first was filled with hatred and manipulation. My past life's traumas still fuel my hatred, and the turmoil within me is palpable. I stood in the garden, surrounded by a riot of colorful flowers, my gaze lingering on each bloom. A sly smile spread across my face as I savored the sweet taste of revenge. A gentle breeze rustled the flowers, and I caught a whiff of a familiar scent. My head snapped up, my eyes scanned the garden, and that's when I saw him. Rico. My mate, My enemy.

“For good.” Marcus smiled like a man sealing a business deal. “Then it’s done.” He closed the laptop, poured me another drink, and raised his glass. “To revenge,” he said. I clinked my glass against his, the sound sharp and final. “To revenge.” As I drank, I felt the burn slide down my throat, like fire cleansing everything inside me. For the first time in weeks, I felt something that almost resembled peace. Almost. But deep down, a small part of me — the last piece of the girl I used to be — whispered that this was a line I could never uncross.