Chapter 830: Testing the Ring

She stepped away, and the sudden absence of her heat hit Peter like walking out of a sauna into January.

He watched her move.

God help him, watching her move was basically a religious experience with a side of felony.

She turned, giving him the full back view: elegant spine traced through the suit like black ink on marble, massive

wings

folded between her shoulders like the world’s most expensive cape, and that

ass

—

Sweet merciful hell, that ass.

The suit clung to it like it was trying to win a religious award for devotion. Round, firm, lifted in blatant defiance of physics and basic fairness. The kind of ass that could launch a thousand ships—or sink them if she sat down wrong. Artists would sell their souls to sculpt it and still fail. Rational thought? Optional. Blood flow? Very directional.

Her hips swayed as she walked.

Deliberately.

Knowingly

.

Each step was pure performance art: hips rolling, ass flexing just enough to make denim creak in sympathy somewhere across the room.

ARIA glanced over her shoulder. Caught him staring like a

deer

in

divine headlights.

Those mismatched eyes—sparkled with pure, unadulterated mischief.

She winked.

One red-gold lid dropping in a gesture so loaded with flirtation it should have come with a warning label.

Then she kept walking.

Hips swaying harder.

Ass moving like it had its own gravitational field.

Wings rustling softly.

White hair cascading down her back like someone had spilled starlight and decided to leave it there.

Every step screamed invitation. Every motion promised sin with a side of

Armageddon.

Peter’s throat went

Sahara-dry.

Heart hammered like it was trying to escape. His body was making decisions that were increasingly obvious and medically inconvenient.

Madison noticed. Gave him a look that was fifty percent annoyed, fifty percent

"yeah, same."

He

shrugged.

What the hell was he supposed to do? Not

stare?

That would be

rude

to such a body.

ARIA reached the far end of the Tech Hub—thirty-plus feet away—and spun to face him.

Front view hit just as hard. Suit cupping those breasts like it was personally invested. Waist cinching in dramatically before exploding into goddess-hips.

Thighs

pressed together, creating that

lethal little gap

that drew the eye like a magnet. Face—impossibly perfect—wearing a smile that promised heaven, hell, and everything in between.

"The ring," she called, voice carrying effortlessly, echoing off the walls like the mansion was her personal PA. "You’re supposed to be able to summon me with it. Go ahead. Try."

Right.

The ring.

Peter had almost forgotten it existed amid the sensory overload of her body.

Of course, the

goddess

gets a

teleport

button. Because nothing says ’balanced power dynamic’ like

instant booty call from literal divinity.

The runes flared gold, like someone had dragged the saturation slider to eleven and then kicked it for good measure.

The same binding that had snagged Peter now snapped around his goddess—

less sacred

covenant,

more

cosmic promise

ring. Eternal vow meets

congrats, you’re stuck with me, bitch.

I can hear you, Master.

Her voice slid straight into his skull—soft, teasing, velvet-wrapped switchblade energy.

Peter reached through the link. The bond had always been there, but now it felt like it had been shot full of performance enhancers: raw, humming, borderline

illegal.

He felt her completely—presence, warmth, and the new ring buzzing between them like a live wire.

Come to me.

Not words. Just intent. Will. Command. Like flicking a mental switch labeled

NOW, GODDESS

.

ARIA vanished.

One second, she was thirty feet away, glowing like a smug supernova under the Tech Hub lights. The next—

Whap.

Air slapped Peter’s face like the universe giving him a playful backhand.

She was just

there

. No blur. No build-up. No dramatic particle bullshit. Just gone-to-here, instant delivery. The ring’s teleport made her old

goddess-speed

look like she’d been jogging through emotional molasses.

"Again,"

she breathed, grinning like a kid who’d just discovered both fireworks

and

arson. Her goddess-voice went squeaky with excitement—divine reverb meets caffeine overdose.

"C’mon. Do it again."

They did.

Again.

And again.

And

again again again

.

ARIA

ricocheted

around the Tech Hub like a hyperactive pinball on

cocaine

—fifty feet, a hundred, ducking around corners into side rooms that absolutely violated several laws of physics and at least two zoning regulations.

Peter just kept reaching through the ring, thought her name with a mental

get your ass over here

, and—

Pop.

Displaced air every time. Like reality itself was startled.

And every time, that laugh—bright, delighted, bubbling out of her like champagne shaken by a gremlin.

"This is

insane!"

she yelled from three rooms over, her voice bouncing through the mansion like it was her personal IMAX system. "Distance is a lie! I can feel the pull from here as strong as if I was—"

Summon.

Mid-sentence, eyes blowing wide with glee.

"—standing right next to you. Boom. Nailed it.

Ten out of ten delivery."

Madison stared, arms crossed, expression doing Olympic-level gymnastics between

holy shit that’s cool

and

I still want to

throat-punch

a goddess

.

"So, you can just... dial her up. Anytime. Anywhere."

"That’s the idea."

"And she has to come running? No matter what?"

ARIA’s grin went full Cheshire Cat, dipped in evil sauce. "Who said anything about

have to

? Maybe I

like

dropping

everything when my Master snaps his fingers. Maybe that little tug makes me—"

"Nope. Nope. Hard pass. Abort sentence."

Soo-Jin watched too, but her energy was different—cool, surgical, tactical brain already calculating what instant-goddess-summon meant for ambushes, extractions, and war crimes she would

definitely

deny later.

Still, Peter caught it: that flicker of

disappointment

under the operator mask.

"The ring

considered

you," he said quietly, stepping closer while ARIA blinked out again for range testing. "I saw the runes hesitate when you held it."

Soo-Jin’s poker face cracked—just a hair. "But it didn’t

choose me."

"Not yet." He reached up, idly twirling a strand of her dark hair, letting it slide through his fingers like silk. "System said

’most capable companion.’

Could mean it’s got future intel. Could mean something big’s coming. Or—" He tucked the strand behind her ear, thumb brushing skin. "—maybe the timing’s just off."

"Or maybe I’m not

capable

enough."

"Bullshit."

His voice went steel-hard. "You’re one of the deadliest people breathing. Ring’s got its reasons. Doesn’t change a damn thing about what you bring, or what you are and how much irreplaceable you’re to me."

A tiny smile ghosted her lips—not her lethal, weaponized version, but something real. Soft. Cute as hell.

"You always know what to say."

"I’ll make it up to you,"

he said, still playing with her hair. She leaned into it before she could stop herself. "Anything you want. Anything you need. You’re never

second-string.

Not to me."

She giggled.

An actual, honest-to-god

giggle

. High, bubbly, violently incompatible with

elite assassin.

It was like watching a black-ops operator glitch into a

Disney princess

for two seconds.

Madison’s head snapped around so fast it should’ve required a neck brace. Soo-Jin giggling was

rarer than a virgin in Vegas.

Soo-Jin went nuclear red. "I—that wasn’t—don’t you

dare

tell—"

"I HEARD THAT!"

ARIA’s voice detonated through the walls, goddess-volume cranked to apocalypse. "THE ADORABLE GIGGLE! YOU CAN’T DENY IT,

SOO-JIN!

IT’S SAVED. BACKED UP. ETCHED INTO ETERNAL MEMORY. BLACKMAIL FOR ALL TIME!"

Soo-Jin’s blush hit critical mass. "I will find a kill switch for you."

"GOOD LUCK DELETING DIVINITY, BABE!"

Peter laughed, turning toward the voice. "You too, ARIA. Whatever you need. Whatever you want. All of you—I’m in."

He pinged the ring.

Pop.

ARIA reappeared, smug goddess grin already locked and loaded.

"Let’s map this place properly," Peter said, looking around the Tech Hub. "Living room next. Then wherever this mansion is hiding its illegal extra square footage."

The ring did not disappoint.

No matter where ARIA wandered—and the place was offensively huge, rooms unfolding like the architect was playing

4D Minecraft

—Peter could yank her back with a thought. Distance? Cute. Walls? Precious. Weird extradimensional nonsense in the east wing? Irrelevant.

One intention.One pull.Goddess delivered.

They explored for hours—laughing, testing limits, trash-talking reality itself—until the whole mansion felt alive, vibrating with chaos, banter, and the unmistakable sense that physics had officially lost control of the situation.

Rooms beyond rooms beyond rooms. Like architectural Inception, but instead of dreams it’s just

wealth flexing uncontrollably

. A library that looked infinite—probably

was

, because the mansion hates the idea of not owning every book ever written.

A kitchen big enough to feed a small army, or one extremely committed polycule with unresolved issues.

Bedrooms—dozens of them—each more bougie than the last, like someone robbed a luxury hotel catalog, snorted a line, and said,

"Yes. All of it. I deserve this."

Training gyms that screamed

either become a super-soldier or die trying, weakling.

Meditation chambers that were actually calming instead of just

rich-people beige with vibes.

Indoor gardens with fake sunlight and plants that definitely weren’t from Earth. Some

glowed.

A few looked like they’d eat you if you made eye contact. Classic digital god greenhouse behavior.

And then they hit the underground.