Red Rising Razor Novels & Stories

“It’s a wolf thing. The werewolves leap and shift all the time. Rhys has lived with them his whole life, so he’s learned how to shift into his dragon form mid-leap. It's pretty cool. I've tried it a couple of times, but I land on my face, so I don't bother.” Just like Kenna’s dragon, Rhys’ ruby scales have stripes of onyx in them. We watch as Enki shifts, his scales the emerald color of his father before he leaps up into the air and follows Rhys toward the mountain where Ajax and I had our picnic. “Hey, Emmi.” I look up to see Kendrick smiling at me. “She has a mate, Kendrick,” Kenna says, tugging me closer to her. “You yell when the wolves ignore her and now you’re going to yell when I say

] [Lydia wears a poker face all the time. [Is this the 3.0 version of her face? Is it finally stable? Don't be surprised if she changes it again after two years!] The fans from both sides were arguing fiercely, and Allen's fans jumped in, too. [Lydia is amazing. Rosie should just leave the entertainment industry!] [How many syringes of hyaluronic acid did she get last night? Her face is as dark as it can get now. No amount of whitening serum will help!]

For some reason, it looked as if they were eloping. Eunice was biting her lip as she stood among the crowd of colleagues and listened in on their gossip. "He looks like the bar promoter in the photos." "Didn't the email claim that Fiona has been using the money from her sugar daddy on him? Why is he so handsome?" "Well, Fiona's sugar daddy must be loaded then. That motorbike costs over 400 thousand dollars!" Eunice was thunderstruck as she repeated, "400 thousand?" "That's right. It's the Assassin M2 from Kowalski, the most expensive motorbike sold in the country!"

His eyes widened in a mixture of fury and disbelief as he took in the scene before him – Alcides and his wife, Artemis, caught in the act of a forbidden liaison. In a moment of rage, Rhesus reacted instinctively. Without a second thought, he hurled a dagger towards Alcides, the sharp blade slicing through the air with deadly intent. However, Alcides, relying on his well-honed reflexes from years in the arena, swiftly dodged the projectile. The dagger embedded itself into the wooden wall, its steel tip quivering in the aftermath. Rhesus, seething with anger, bellowed in a thunderous voice that echoed through the chamber, "Guards! Seize him!"

After taking the headache medicine, Grace took a special women's razor from the toolbox hanging near the medicine box. The razor consisted of four sharp blades, it was new (maybe Grace bought it three days ago). The razor is pink with Rubber teeth on the handle to make it easier for users to grip. Grace opened the safety of the knife blade, then washed it first with water from the sink faucet. She took shaving foam from her equipment box, and shook the can before pressing the top of the can. White, lemonade-scented foam rose in her palm. After lifting her left armpit, she rubbed the shaving foam on her armpit area, a cool and moist sensation spread over the skin of her armpit. Grace... Grace

I look like a trainwreck and feel like it as well. My eyes drift over the counter and I see Alessio’s razor. It is laying there, waiting, inviting. My fingers itch to take it, to hurt myself. The next second I am sitting in the large tub with the razor in my hand. My clothes are drenched in red liquid pouring out of my wrist. I cut again, and again. Further up my arm since the wrist is now a big open wound. Silent tears are again falling down my cheeks, blurring my vision and preventing me from seeing what I’m doing. All I see is red.

Razor said. “ This is going to hurt you badly isn’t it.” I asked. “ More than you know. It isn’t going to be me that helps you through your first shift. I won’t be by your side when she shows herself to the world the first time. It won’t be my mark she bares.” Razor said. The more he talked the sadder he sounded. I pulled back to look at him. “ Razor this is really eating at you isn’t it?” I asked. “ Yes, my beauty, it is. It breaks my heart every day.” he says.

Razor’s face was hardly recognizable, cuts and bruises decorated it and his left eye was swollen. Victor didn’t reply instead he pressed one of the buttons on a small box attached to one of the iron bars. The chains holding Razor went up, pulling Razor up with them and then it stopped so that Razor dangled in the air, bounded by chains around his hands and legs, in an X position. Blood dripped down his arm falling several meters through the air and dropping on the Cage’s floor. Razor chuckled, his disfigured face making his smile look creepy. “Don’t you think this ceremony is all too much? I feel honored.”

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.

A dangerous allure pulsed in its presence, tempting me with the illusion of control over an internal tempest. Kneeling, my back met the cold wall, my knees drawn close to my chest. The razor felt cool against my trembling fingers. As I observed its ominous beauty, the desire to sever the physical pain mirrored the chaos within. I hesitated, caught in a struggle between the longing for relief and the innate instinct for self-preservation. The blade, a silent witness to the turmoil, hung in the air, its promise of escape tauntingly within reach. The bathroom held a heavy silence, broken only by the rhythmic sounds of my breaths and the persistent echoes of his lies. The razor's cold touch agai