Kai Razor Blades Novels & Stories

I whispered. Kael hugged me tightly. "You'll never have to again," he promised. Tracing patterns in the new hair on Kael's chest and stomach, I couldn't help but smile as I "erased" them and started again. His laugh vibrated through his body as he pulled the blanket over our heads to watch me. "I'll get it all shaved off soon," he said. "I don't know, I kinda like it," I replied with a grin. He snorted. "Well, tell one of the other two because I've been dreaming of a razor since I saw the one in Teddy's shower."

The anger, the regret, the anxiety, the emotional and mental tiredness. I kept the water running and then searched the bathroom for something to use as a weapon. I needed something that would weaken him immediately, because trust me, I did not know how to fight or could even defend myself well. Then my eyes landed on the small knife that men normally use for shaving. I think it’s called a straight razor or a cut-throat razor. The only reason I even knew the name was because of Chris. It was perfect. I knew for a fact that it was very sharp and every time that Chris would use it to shave, I would have so much anxiety.

Its exposed flesh was dry, cracked, dusted with spiral glyphs too faint to read. I stopped. Lira didn’t. But she paused after a few more paces—enough that I knew she was listening. I lowered to one knee by the trunk. Pulled a blade from my belt. Not my hunting knife. The old one. Bone-handled. The same one I’d used when I earned my first rite. The same one Rheia had cut her palm with the night we promised not to need fate. I hadn’t touched it since. I carved my name slow. Deep. K A E L.

The blunt end of my blade connects with his ribs and he lets out a grunt, retreating. Kai steps out from behind a tree, clapping slowly. “Not bad.” I pant, lowering my weapons for a second. “You coming too?” He nods, expression softening. “You ready?” “No.” He laughs. “Honest. I like that.” And then he’s on me. Kai fights differently - more calculated, almost… gentle. He doesn’t go for the kill, he tests me with every move. Parry. Twist. Sidestep. His strikes are near misses, always giving me a window to respond.

It was strategy. Finally, I picked up the razor. It was straight-edged. Handcrafted. Japanese steel. A tool passed down through generations of artisans. Lethal and elegant—like me. It felt comfortable in my hand, a natural extension of my will. I applied the shaving cream with a badger-hair brush, the foam blooming across my jawline in thick, white swirls. Each stroke of the blade was slow, controlled, and deliberate. I carved the stubble away, inch by inch, revealing the clean, marble-smooth skin beneath. No nicks. No hesitation. Just unwavering focus.

"Think about it, the name Kopis is ancient Greece for a knife and it's no coincidence that your name..." "... Is Blade." I finished for her as I began thinking about it. "If this is in anyway true, that means I'm cursed." "Yeah!" She said. "You are." My heart crashed as somehow, I had been hoping that this bloodlust thing would go away and I could try to have a normal life again.

Especially now, as she wasn't currently working at the hospital. She reached out to touch the matte-finished blade. It was a set of surgical tools, precious because of their unique blades. The blades were as thin as a cicada's wings, yet incredibly hard and stable. They were razor-sharp, so much so that it was said a cut from these blades wouldn't be felt for the first few seconds due to their sharpness. Wayne had certainly chosen well, knowing her interests. But she couldn't accept such an expensive gift without feeling she had earned it.

Then a sharp sound cut through the noise. Someone cleared their throat. "I hope I’m not interrupting a private moment," a dry, mocking voice said. Kairos froze on top of me. I felt it right away. Every muscle in him went tight. He pushed himself up slowly, like it cost him something, but he kept one arm firm around my waist. Like he didn’t trust the world not to take me again. I turned my head toward the gate. Kael stood there. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a nightmare. His black blades dripped with Northern blood. It slid down and tapped against the stone. He didn’t look at the burning courtyard. Didn’t look at the soldiers. His blue eyes were locked on Kairos’s hand on my body

Cade Cade chewed the inside of his lip as he watched Quinn’s preparations. His eyes opened wide when he saw the straight razor in Quinn’s bag. “I don’t think I need that,” he said, pointing at the razor. “It’s a sensual experience being shaved with a razor as sharp as this,” Quinn said. “No way. That razor is going nowhere near my throat.” The disappointed look Quinn gave him made him want to fall on his knees and beg Quinn’s forgiveness. “I’ll let it go this time,” Quinn said, “but I hope in time you’ll trust me enough to use this razor on you.”