The Villain Who Stole Hearts
Chapter 122: The Trance of the Blood Mandala

Chapter 122: The Trance of the Blood Mandala

"Boss, come on, now you’re just messing with me," Kai said, clearly regretting his earlier comment. "It’s my job to lighten your load, isn’t it? Besides, guys like Cody? They’re careless as hell. You hand this off to them, they’ll scare the talent off before she even walks through the door. And those girls you’re looking for—they don’t even know them, right? But if they do show up for an audition, I’ll be the first to let you know."

"Alright, enough of your act. Just remember who I’m looking for. And make sure you keep yourself in one piece."

Veil waved him off, clearly done with the topic.

When it came to things like this, Veil didn’t bother pretending to be squeamish.

It was like the old days—big families, massive estates, full of maids. Sure, the high-ranking ones got special attention, but no way a young master had the time or interest to sleep with all of them.

Sometimes it felt good to play matchmaker for his close guys. A little reward here and there—it kept them loyal, made life easier. What was the harm?

Don’t let the window dressing fool you. Different setting, same damn playbook.

As for those actresses in showbiz—aside from a handful of lucky charm types who somehow stayed pure—how were they any different from the socialites?

Just a matter of stage time. One played for the cameras, the other behind the curtain.

"Come on out. You think no one noticed?"

Veil’s sudden words caught Kai completely off guard.

The cockpit door slid open, and Blood Mandala stepped out, looking like she’d just swallowed a lemon. Her face said it all—she was not pleased.

Kai immediately jumped up and headed for the cockpit, calling to the pilot to cut the rear-cabin intercom.

Within moments, the front and back of the jet were sealed off in silence—no more sound could pass between them.

Veil frowned. "Really? You snuck all the way here and couldn’t even give me a heads-up?"

He wouldn’t have noticed her at all, if not for that subtle aura she gave off when Kai mentioned actress scouting earlier. Otherwise, even in this godforsaken corner of nowhere, she might’ve gone undetected.

"I haven’t heard from you in days. Am I not allowed to come check on you?" Blood Mandala bit her lip, glaring at him with a mixture of jealousy and hurt.

What pissed her off more was that ever since Veil boarded the plane, he hadn’t said a single word about her. Not one.

She knew her place. She knew what she was. And yet...

Sneaking on board and hearing him talk about other women? Yeah, that made her want to kill those women.

Veil reached out and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder with a soft chuckle.

"Too much time alone and now you’re starting to spiral, huh?"

"Think what you want," Blood Mandala muttered, not bothering to argue.

She’d thought she’d moved past that deep-rooted loneliness. Thought she’d healed.

But in truth? She hadn’t.

The moment Veil was out of sight, she was just a stray again—adrift, anxious, directionless.

And because she’d once known what it was like to be truly cared for, to feel safe with someone... she couldn’t help but crave it even more.

In other words, Veil had hit the nail right on the head.

Inside the jet, soundproof and sealed away from the world, her bitterness slowly ebbed. She didn’t speak again—just curled quietly into his chest, glancing up at him now and then.

Even without words, the question in her eyes was loud and clear:

You gonna do something about this, or what?

That look on her face—like she wanted nothing more than to rip off his clothes and lose herself in him—was impossible to miss.

"Blood Mandala... damn," Veil sighed, running a hand through her silky hair.

"Every time I see you, there’s one part of me that gets harder than bone."

Veil’s fingertips trailed down the curve of Blood Mandala’s lower back, pressing into the fabric of his uniform, leaving behind faint creases of desire. When his palm fully cupped the rounded curve, the friction between his hand and the leather pants produced a soft, suggestive rustle. Deliberately, he let his thumb dig into the shadow where the curve of the buttock met the thigh, eliciting a low, involuntary groan from Blood Mandala. His lashes fluttered, and the crimson-stained lower lip bore the faint mark of his own teeth. Seizing the moment, Veil gripped Blood Mandala’s jaw with his hand, his thumb brushing over the dampness there, leaving a fleeting red imprint on the skin.

Their breaths mingled, hot and heavy, until Veil suddenly pushed his tongue into Blood Mandala’s mouth. The sensation made Blood Mandala arch his neck, and Veil couldn’t resist biting down.

The pain twisted the kiss into something darker, more primal.

As Veil’s tongue swept over the sensitive ridges of the roof of his mouth, his hand had already slid from the curve of his backside to the inner thigh, the leather of the restraining band straining under his fingers with a faint, desperate stretch.

Veil’s fingers continued their descent, tracing the ridges of Blood Mandala’s spine, each vertebra trembling under his touch. Blood Mandala’s breathing grew uneven, the silk robe slipping from his shoulders to reveal the pale, moonlit expanse of his upper body.

"You’re even more beautiful than before," Veil murmured against the shell of his ear, his tongue flicking lightly against the silver ring in his earlobe.

He could feel the rhythm of Blood Mandala’s heartbeat, erratic and loud in the quiet darkness. Blood Mandala didn’t respond, but his hand slid beneath Veil’s shirt, fingertips grazing the defined muscles of his abdomen. His nails left faint red trails, a reminder of their first time. Veil chuckled softly, then suddenly dropped to one knee.

His fingers worked at the buttons of Blood Mandala’s trousers, the movements deliberate, almost reverent, as though unwrapping something precious. When his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of Blood Mandala’s inner thigh, Blood Mandala’s fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tightly.

"Don’t play with fire," Blood Mandala’s voice was breathless, but Veil ignored him.

His tongue continued its exploration, tracing paths along Blood Mandala’s skin.

Blood Mandala’s breathing grew heavier, and Veil suddenly stood, pushing him down onto the long table.

Veil’s fingers trailed over Blood Mandala’s collarbone, pausing at the hollow of his throat before moving lower.

Their bodies pressed together, heat and tension coiling between them.

Veil’s palm rested over Blood Mandala’s chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat. Blood Mandala’s nails dug into Veil’s back, leaving faint marks, but his lips lingered at Veil’s neck, teeth grazing the pulse point.

"Tell me what you want," Veil whispered against Blood Mandala’s ear, his voice laced with amusement.

Blood Mandala’s crimson eyes burned in the darkness, and he grabbed Veil’s collar, pulling him closer.

"Everything." Veil’s smile was dangerous as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Blood Mandala’s.

"As you wish, Master." The rain continued to beat against the windows, the moonlight filtering through the downpour to cast fragmented shadows over their entwined bodies.

Their movements were a dance of predators, each touch charged with danger, each breath a whispered promise of something final.

...

It took a long while before Veil finally felt like his bones were back in the right places—like a normal human again.

"That was rough on you," he said with a wry smile, giving Blood Mandala a gentle pat on the head. "But hey, we’re on a plane. Couldn’t exactly do anything too wild. Still... kinda messed up, huh?"

Blood Mandala glanced around, left and right, as if looking for something to distract herself. But there was nothing. With a quiet sigh, she swallowed back the dryness in her throat and gave him a pointed look, rolling her eyes hard.

"So this isn’t messed up to you?"

She sounded irritated—but only a little. Deep down, she was quietly content.

At the very least, it showed that in Veil’s eyes, she was a woman—not just a partner in crime, not just a killer. Even with the cabin sealed off from the cockpit, even with no eyes watching, he still didn’t want her doing something too much in a place like this.

And in a moment like this, Veil knew better than to argue.

One, he didn’t really have a leg to stand on.

Two, even if he "won," there was no winning in this kind of conversation.

From the day he left the hospital to the day they moved into Honeydew Cottage, more than two weeks had passed. Two weeks of restraint, of laying low, of forced calm. And now, with Blood Mandala falling right into his lap, he might’ve... overreacted a little.

A soft twinge of guilt passed through him.

He reached up and gently brushed the red tinge from beneath her eyes, shifting the topic with a low voice.

"How are things on your end, over in Luxhaven City? I kept my promise. Caden Voss is gone. Casper Voss too. Both dead. Now it’s your turn. What happened?"

Blood Mandala bit her lip, where the color was still just a little too flushed.

Her eyes darkened with resentment.

"He’s made enemies all over the place. Honestly, calling him ’hated’ would be an understatement. He’s got personal security around him constantly—and not the weak kind either. A lot of them are elite."

"Even with all my training, there’s no clean opening right now. Not yet."

The old Blood Mandala would’ve already been deep in motion.

Shadowing targets for days. Weeks.

Mapping routes. Watching habits. Building opportunities out of cracks in the routine.

But now?

Her mind wouldn’t stay still.

She couldn’t sink into that dark, focused place anymore—kept getting distracted by flickering flashes of memory.

Her attention kept slipping, and for an assassin, that was the deadliest mistake of all.

"I’m asking you seriously," Veil said, gently pinching her cheek. "Do you really want him dead? Or are you just not ready to pull the trigger?"

Blood Mandala let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

"I’ve always wanted him dead. What makes you think I’m not ready?" Her voice dropped, but her words burned hot.

"He’s nothing to me—never was. My mother died because of his greed. His selfishness. He’s filth. If I had the chance—if there was any window—I would tear him apart piece by piece. I want him to feel what pain really means."

"I’ll help you," Veil said softly, with a warm smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"And don’t be so quick to turn me down. Things are different now. Your enemies... are mine too."

Ordinarily, Blood Mandala didn’t like anyone interfering in her business.

But Veil wasn’t "anyone." He was hers.

She didn’t answer right away. Didn’t even look at him.

Instead, her eyes lowered, her voice even lower.

"I’ll help you too..."

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