Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 146: Blood on Her Finger, Warm on His Lips

Blood on Her Finger, Warm on His Lips

Cautiously, slowly, Leon raised her hand once more.

Reverent, featherlight, his touch was. He drew her bleeding finger to his lips—without hesitation, without question—and took it into his mouth softly.

His lips enveloped the injured finger, warm and gentle, and he started to sucked softly., as if to stop bleeding.

Sona went rigid with surprise. Her breath froze. The world around them—the roses, the breeze, even the sky—muted into quiet. She hadn’t counted on it. Not this. Not now. Her eyes went wide, and for a second, she forgot how to breathe.

And then she felt it.

A warm, woozy sensation spread from the tip of her finger, through her hand, up her arm—and into her chest. Her heart beat an odd little stutter, like it didn’t quite know how to do its job anymore.

Her knees felt a bit weak underneath her.

She flushed—her cheeks growing hot, skin pricking, all her senses immediately heightened. She didn’t know why something so minor, so insignificant—just the touch of his lips on her finger—caused her body to respond like this.

It was merely a finger. and yet, the feeling was so much more.

His lips were soft, but the manner in which he sucked—slow, so indulgent—sent curious spasms through her. Not pain, no, but not quite pleasure either.

No, it wasn’t that. Something more.

A gentle gasp slipped past her lips before she could catch it. Her knees faltered, and her fingers trembled weakly in his grip. All the nerves in her hand seemed to come alive—his breath, his heat, the slow movement of his mouth—it was overwhelming, excruciatingly tender.

She didn’t know why.

Why did her body feel as light as a feather? Why did warmth condense in the belly of her body and twist deliciously up her spine? It was only her finger... or so?

But what she could not observe—what even Leon also had not observed—was that his passive abilities—Touch of Charm, Scent of Arousal, and Charm Maximizer—were in full bloom.

And just one intimate touch from him with his passive abilities was enough to awaken desires, awaken emotions, and make any woman feel overwhelmingly cherished—desired—without utterance... and Sona wasn’t immune to this. Not to him. Not after all these years of distance.

then suddenly Sona’s mind dispersed.

A low, startled hum of pleasure curled in her chest. She wanted to draw back her finger —she should—but part of her didn’t want the moment over. She hadn’t felt something like this in so long... not tenderness, not concern.

And certainly not this.

Leon, not knowing the full tempest behind her quiet, looked up—and caught sight of her face.

A soft pink blush had spread over her cheeks, down to her throat. Her mouth was open, her lashes low and shaking. She was. beautiful. Startled. Exposed.

He almost laughed.

Not derisively—but in hushed amazement. It was exactly like the way they used to be as kids. But now, it all seemed heavier. Softer. Sweeter. Treacherous.

If anyone walked into the garden at present—saw her there: lips parted, cheeks flushed, her finger resting between his lips— if anyone caught so much as a glimpse—it would be the end.

For Leon, particularly.

He wouldn’t merely be punished.

He’d be doomed. Announced a traitor. And worse Executed.

The king was already seeking an excuse—just one—to eliminate him from their way. And now, standing here, slowly sucking the Queen’s fingertip like a lover, Leon was providing them all the reasons they would ever need.

His cultivation was one level below the king’s; if he caught him here, they wouldn’t hesitate for a moment before killing him.

And yet... even with how close the scene appeared—

The royal garden was quiet. Vacant.

It was only the wind that stirred, rustling through rose bushes like a whispered observer.

No eyes. Just them two.

Sona finally seemed to compose herself. Flustered, uncertain, she pulled her hand with a firmer grip this time, severing the contact.

Her finger was withdrawn from his lips with a soft noise—pop.

Her voice quivered. ”Le-Leon... wh-what are you doing?”

Leon blinked, suddenly stunned as she drew back her finger. Her skin slid from his lips, and he was left standing there—still half crouched forward, lips parted slightly, the taste of her blood on his tongue.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

And then he slowly straightened up, running a hand through his hair with smooth nonchalance—like what had transpired was the most normal thing on earth.

His gaze softened as he looked into hers, his lips curving into a small, wistful smile.

”Do you remember,” he said softly, ”when we were young? TThat time you cut your finger when you were playing in the garden... and you began crying, even though you were trying to hide it?”

He laughed softly, eyes faraway.

Sona’s breath was caught. She looked at him.

”And I...” He raised his own hand, duplicating the motion. ”I held your hand. I licked the blood away. Like this.”

Her eyes expanded a little. The recollection burst behind them like a flower unfurling into sunlight.

She recalled.

The picture returned with shocking sharpness: her young self, weeping, presenting a bleeding finger—and Leon, tiny and serious, running it to his lips with a boyish crease of concern. She’d been shocked. Ashamed. But the hurt had gone away. The tears had dried.

”Yes...” she whispered, as much to herself. ”That... That did happen.”

She gazed at him now, heart wringing. How did I forget something like that...? Such a lovely memory...

Aloud, she attempted to get herself together, her voice defensive, flustered.

”B-But that was different,” she stammered, her voice slightly too high. ”That time... we were children, Leon.”

She tilted her head slightly towards rose, concealing her face behind silver-white locks as she mumbled. ”We’re adults now. You don’t have to do... things like that anymore.”

Leon arched his eyebrow.

”Is that so?” he asked, soft amusement in his voice.

She attempted to said in seriousness while turning to other side. ”It’s childish.”

When she attempted to sound serious— ”It’s childish”—her voice came out brittle, not having the weight she wanted it to possess.

And her eyes, however, said something else entirely: a combination of vulnerability, a soft flicker of warmth, and something else unsaid that neither of them wanted to say out loud yet.