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.
Rage pounded through his body and he threw himself into the air, relishing the pain the shapeshifting brought.
The edge of cold rage was gone from his voice.
Rage welled up as he went to find her.
He had nearly drained her of blood, but had been in such a rage he hadn't even paid attention.
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.
The tanned complexion, that amorphous crag-like face; the dull black eyes under the precipice of brows, like dull anthracite furnaces, needing only to be blown; the mastiff mouth accurately closed; I have not traced so much of silent Berserkir rage that I remember in any man."
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).
Prince Andrew saw that the officer was in that state of senseless, tipsy rage when a man does not know what he is saying.
Pierre was in such a transport of rage that he remembered nothing and his strength increased tenfold.