Supreme Spouse System.-Chapter 235: Hide, My Love—Before the World Knocks

Hide, My Love—Before the World Knocks

Sona didn’t waste another second.

"Hide," she breathed, already sliding off the bed, her voice low but decisive. "I’ll talk to her and find out why she’s here."

But her body didn’t move as smoothly as her mind commanded. She peeled back the covers and shifted, her legs swinging to the side of the bed in one swift motion.

The silk sheet slid off her body, exposing flesh pale and flushed, marked by trails of subtle love marks—proof of the night’s wild passion. Pale bruises kissed her backbone, lingered on her hips, and danced upon the gentle curves of her thighs.

She breathed and attempted to stand. But as soon as her foot hit the chilly marble floor, her knee wobbled.

"A-Ah—!"

Her body shook, and before she could stop herself, she staggered—thudding backward onto the mattress with a harsh gasp.

"Sona—!"

Leon was at her side in a heartbeat, arms around her waist holding her upright. His voice had lost the teasing; it was heavy now with concern.

"Are you okay?"

Her cheeks burned. She twisted her face up, eyes flashing at him in spite of the weakness in her muscles.

You. you idiot," she spat under her breath, eyes spiking. "Whose fault do you think this is?"

Her voice shook—not from pain or fear, but from acute mortified frustration.

Leon flinched, guilt creeping over his face. "Sorry," he mumbled, looking guilty. "I. maybe got a bit carried away."

In perfect timing, another knock sounded—this time louder, more urgent.

He shifted swiftly, one hand dipping into the silver ring around his finger. With practiced smoothness, he pulled out a tiny red pill from his storage ring and pushed it into her hand.

"Here," he murmured. "Take this. It’ll alleviate the ache."

Sona didn’t argue. There was no time to argue, and besides—she trusted him. Wordlessly, she slipped the pill beyond her lips.

It was tiny, silky, and the instant it came in contact with her tongue, it melted away like sun-drenched morning fog.

A warmth seeped through her body.

A warm red sheen danced upon her skin. The bruising tenderness in her thighs receded. Her tight muscles relaxed, the fatigue stress vanishing. Even the haphazard love marks on her skin had already diminished—softening into nothing, as if passion of the night had been erased by enchantment.

Sona’s eyes snapped open in surprise. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

"Mmm..." A gentle hum escaped her lips as she gradually rolled her shoulders, bending her limbs. No stiffness. No aching. Only lightness, as if her body had been fully reconstituted. She glanced at Leon, catching her breath slightly in amazement. "Leon... I feel... fresh."

Leon smiled, reclining negligently against the pillows, bare-chested and still shrouded in the bedsheet. Satisfaction danced in his golden eyes.

"They’re a premium-grade recovery pill," he declared, obviously boasting. "I purchased them in quantity—saved for my wives and... well, for you and the others who will follow."

She cocked an eyebrow at that, her face wry. "Premium, is it?" Her voice softened as curiosity took the place of teasing. "Where on earth did you even find pills like that?"

Leon laughed, a trifle too smug. "Trade secret, my love."

Sona shot him a look—half warning, half affection—and shook her head with a soft smile pressing against her lips. "Fine. Don’t tell me then."

She shifted in the sheets and sat up—this time without hesitation. Her body stayed firm, legs steady beneath her as she ascended from the bed. A step forward, and no stumble. She faced him, one brow cocked. "Very effective," she said softly with grudging admiration. Then, her eyes cast over her shoulder toward the door, she said under her breath, "Now go hide."

Leon’s mouth began to open in protest—words that never did emerge.

His eyes had fallen. His lips had parted.

She remained naked.

The smooth rise of her back, the curve of her waist narrowing to her hips, the flesh that had only hours before bucked beneath him—now departing as if she were not a sculpture forged from his deepest need.

Sona tracked his gaze, rolled her eyes, and attempted to dismiss the flush rising up her face.

"Ogle your wife and get on out, husband," she told him without looking around. Her voice was steady, but the flush that was creeping up her face gave her away.

She made her way across the room to the wardrobe, every step slow and deliberate, her hips swaying with the kind of natural elegance that was not intentional but downright effortless—enough to make Leon’s throat constrict.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Every shift, every sway, was agony in silence.

The feel of her body pinned beneath him, the ring of her gasps, the heat of her skin—came back to him in technicolor. And now, with the morning sunlight seeping through the drapes and bathing her in a golden glow, it only made her more unreal.

He swallowed hard. Under the blankets, his cock stirred in reaction. He gritted his teeth, fighting to remain motionless.

Her hips were mesmerizing. All he desired was to push her onto the bed again, hold her down, and plunge into her again until she was panting and pleading—but he was wiser than that. Not now. Not yet.

She stretched up into the wardrobe, standing on tiptoe for an instant before pulling out a black satin nightdress from one of the higher shelves. Without pause, she slipped it over her frame.

The material caressed her skin as it settled into place—silky, smooth, and wicked. It clung where it was supposed to, mapping the contours of her body with soft respect, showing just enough to entice without actually concealing anything. Her breasts moved quietly under the material, the satin skirting the soft curves as she settled the straps.

Leon’s eyes were fixed there, transfixed.

She turned her head and saw him looking at her—again.

"You’re still staring," she said, voice dry.

"You’re beautiful," he answered simply, his voice thick with desire.

She didn’t reply for a moment. Then, faintly, she murmured, "No need to flatter. Your wife already knows."

Even so, her voice had softened, just like her expression. She turned away to hide the slight smile tugging at her lips.

The nightgown caught the light as she moved, the black silk rippling over her thighs. It was scarcely decent. Her legs were still visible through the thin fabric, and every step made it shiver around her ankles.

Just as she was reaching for a hair tie to pull back her rumpled silver hair—

Knock. Knock.

A tentative voice came through the thick door, indistinct but insistent.

"My queen, are you all right?"

The voice came from just beyond the heavy door—gentle, yet lined with worry. It was Tsubaki, cautious in tone, as if afraid of what truth might lie behind the silence. Her knuckles hadn’t even met the wood yet, but Sona could hear the hesitation in her voice, like someone stepping through mist unsure of the path ahead.

"I’m fine, just... wait, Tsubaki! Just a moment!" Sona called out, quickly.

She whirled around, heart missing a beat as her eyes landed on Leon—still on the edge of the bed, chest bare, the wrinkled sheet barely clinging to his waist.

Her tone sank into desperation. "Leon, hide."

Leon blinked, surprised—but for only a breath. Then, nodding curtly, he stood up. The sheet fell a little as he caught it and folded it more tightly about his hips. In a few quiet steps, he moved into the room and stepped behind the high curtain that hung close to the window.

The shadows engulfed him.

From that corner, half-hooded in sunlight and silk, he could still see her. Still observe the queen that he had at last touched—last held—just a few hours past.

He didn’t hide because of guilt. There wasn’t even a flicker of hesitation when it came to embracing her as his wife—not even the shadow of doubt in his heart.

It was merely caution —quiet, measured, and deeply established by circumstance.

A tempest simmered secretly behind palace walls, and its center rested on the throne. If the king were to ever learn what had indeed occurred between them—what had germinated in silence and flowered in darkness—Leon knew the cost would not rest on his shoulders alone.

It would destroy her too. And the rest of them. The women who had stood by him, trusted him, lived a life with him. The fallout wouldn’t be concerned with titles or loyalty. It would just kill.

Leon wasn’t afraid of fighting.

But he would never bring Sona and the rest into that flame—not like this.

If war arrived, he would face it headfirst. But until then, he decided to wait. To keep waiting. Not because he was afraid of what he’d done—but because he loved his wives too much.

On the other side of the room, Sona stood at the bedside, a hint of a look breaking on her face. Her silver hair, unbound now, caught a glint of sunlight filtering through the window. She cocked her head to the drawn curtain at the far end of the room—once. Her lips curled in a fraction of a smile. Not a smile, not a smirk. Something gentler.

And then, she swept one dainty hand into the air. Her fingers clicked.

Blue light flashed in the chamber, humming a brief moment like lungs drawing air.

In two seconds, the room changed.

The smell of heat and sweat—of bodies entwined and panting desire—fled in a rush of fresh air. Replacing it was a soft floral scent, crisp and faintly sweet, like dew-kissed lilies.

The crumpled pages smoothed themselves again with a gentle whisper. The pulled curtains drew straight as if nudged by unseen hands. A cool breeze pushed away the residual heat of the previous night, soothing the formerly oppressive air.

Leon, still concealed behind the curtain’s fold, let out a quiet breath through his nose. His gold eyes tracked her every action.

She’s stronger now. Sharper. Her mana control. it’s not like it used to be.

His chest expanded with something subdued—pride, admiration, perhaps even awe.

And he looked at her. Not as a duke. Not as a friend. But as a man who is her husband now.

Sona stepped towards the doors to the chamber with quiet steps, her bare feet making no sound on the cold marble. She stood before them, her fingers above the gilded handle. A slow breath came up from her chest and flowed out, nearly balancing her.

Her fingers clenched.

Click.

The door creaked open, its hinges gentle but firm.

Two people stood just beyond.

One of them she had anticipated. Tsubaki, punctual as ever, her expression serene and inscrutable as ever.

But standing beside her was another.

Sona’s eyebrows rose slightly. Surprised flickered in her silver eyes.

"Tsubaki," she said, her tone sleek and controlled. Then her head tilted fractionally. "And...?"

The second woman smiled cheekily back at her, but the presence was not one Sona had been expecting—not this morning.

At the back of the curtain, Leon’s ears picked up every phrase. His body tightened, then unstiffened again as he listened.

Surprising to her... and me too.

And thus started a new morning.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fre𝒆webnove(l).𝐜𝐨𝗺