Adrienne felt the rage tearing at her lungs, plucking at her nerves until she wanted to twist Julie's neck off.
Every thought of the bastard who had my wife in his sick clutches nearly blinded me with the rage of a mad man.
He paused, bristling with lightning and rage at the thought of Darian betraying their family.
His rage simmered, yet he couldn't maintain the rage when faced with the sudden need to think.
He flew into an abusive rage when he saw it.
Long-buried rage was bubbling upward, along with the tiny instinct he'd squashed thousands of years ago.
The lingering rage at being so unceremoniously busted, and by a snippy woman storm trooper to boot, was only now beginning to melt away in the peace of his quarters.
His face twisted in rage as he reached for her again.
She faced the goddess, rage streaking through her along with the terror of being mated to the Dark One.
He didn.t have to ask what Sasha did to her when her pretty blue eyes flared with white rage and then filled with tears.
Confusion and rage blinded him, and he threw himself into the battle, not noticing the nicks and bruises his opponents inflicted upon him.
The edge of cold rage was gone from his voice.
Rage welled up as he went to find her.
Her face contorted with rage, and her eyes blackened.
His face contorted in rage and one long step brought him close enough to grab her shoulders.
Anger, even rage, but not pity.
His surprise wore off, replaced by cold rage that rose from deep within him.
The raw rage he didn't feel walking with Claire unfurled within him, until he was sprinting.
He released his pent-up rage and frustration and gave a bellowing war cry, trying hard to forget the warlord of Tiyan.
Before she fell again for Sirian's lies, she pushed the lever to seal his cell and walked away, rage and confusion making her head spin.
He gave a strangled cry of rage and pain in response.
His cold rage terrified her.
He too is flouted, and in his rage tortures and slays her and her companions.
Unfortunately, Venice, for her own safety's sake, insisted on the publication of Wladislaus's antiTurkish alliance; the Porte, well informed of the course of Polish affairs, remained strictly neutral despite the most outrageous provocations; and Wladislaus, bound by his coronation oath not to undertake an offensive war, found himself at the mercy of the diet which, full of consternation and rage, assembled at Warsaw on the 2nd of May 1647.
By the late 1800s, superphosphates were all the rage and eighty factories were manufacturing this high-yield fertilizer from coprolites (that is, phosphate-rich fossils of ancient animal dung—I kid you not).
Princess Mary well knew this mood of quiet absorbed querulousness, which generally culminated in a burst of rage, and she went about all that morning as though facing a cocked and loaded gun and awaited the inevitable explosion.
She stopped, seeing in the forward thrust of her husband's head, in his glowing eyes and his resolute gait, the terrible indications of that rage and strength which she knew and had herself experienced after his duel with Dolokhov.