Page 45 of Property of Spike

“You touched her,” Maverick’s voice cuts through from somewhere behind me, calm but sharp.

“I did no such thing,” Blue Eyes protests.

“You calling me a liar, boy?” Maverick steps forward, his posture menacing, his voice low but full of authority. “Don’t forget that I’m not an actual patched member of this club. I don’t need a good reason to kill a fucking brother. Slitting your throat will give me great pleasure.”

“Sorry, Maverick,” Blue Eyes whimpers. “I wasn’t thinking. You’re right. I did touch her. But I didn’t hurt her.”

“You touched my woman?” Spike’s voice is a growl, filled with a dangerous edge that makes the air feel heavier.

“Your woman?” Blue Eyes asks, his face draining of color. “I didn’t know, Prez. I swear.”

“He hurt you?” Spike’s eyes roam over me, taking in every bruise, every mark, but I know he doesn’t see what he’s looking for. There’s so much damage on me, Chuck’s marks all over my body, that I know Spike wouldn’t even notice if Blue Eyes had added to them.

“No,” I admit, the words slipping out as I glance at the floor. “He just put his hand on my shoulder when I tried to get in, butI’m so freaking tired of people touching me. I’m tired of being hurt.” My voice cracks, and for a moment, I can’t hold it in anymore. “I don’t want anyone to touch me ever again.”

I hate how weak I sound, how broken, but I can’t take it anymore.

And despite everything I’ve just said, I lean into Spike’s chest, feeling his arms come around me like a shield.

“Nobody but you,” I whisper against his shirt, my voice barely audible. “Please, don’t let them touch me.”

I can’t explain why I’m saying this. I can’t explain why my skin crawls at the thought of anyone’s hands on me. I can’t explain why Spike feels like the only safe place, but I don’t care. I don’t need to. All I need is for him to promise me that I won’t have to endure the touch of anyone else ever again.

“You don’t ever have to worry about anyone touching you again. You’re safe here. You’re with me.” Spike says, his voice tight, as though he’s struggling to hold back his own emotions.

And I believe him. Maybe for the first time in a long while, I believe that I’ll finally be protected. I’ll be safe.

“Back to work,” Spike says, gently pulling me away from his chest and guiding me into the war room.

“Uhm, Spike?” I ask as I sit in the chair he directs me to.

“Yeah, baby?” he replies, his voice low but attentive.

Everyone else is back in their seats, their eyes fixed on me. I sigh, feeling the heat rise to my face. I really don’t want to ask this, but I have no choice.

“I need a pump,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

“A pump?” he asks, kneeling in front of me, his brow furrowing in confusion.

I can feel the embarrassment creeping up my neck, but I gather the courage to meet his gaze. My eyes drop to my chest, where wet spots have already formed over my nipples.

His confusion deepens, and I sigh before explaining. “A breast pump. Without Asher nursing every four hours, my breasts are full. I was able to pump at the hospital, but I haven’t since then. If I don’t pump regularly, my milk supply will decrease. I could lose my ability to nurse him.”

Spike’s brow creases and the intensity in his expression makes me smile despite the awkwardness.

“Manual or electric?” a broad man, one I’ve never seen before, suddenly asks.

“Uh,” I hesitate, unsure if I should answer the stranger.

I glance back down at Spike, who’s still kneeling in front of me, but now his eyes are fixed firmly on my chest, a dazed look in his eyes as if he’s forgotten everything going on in the room.

“I’m not sure,” I admit to the stranger, feeling my cheeks burn hotter.

“No worries,” he smiles, looking down at the laptop in front of him. “Who has access to the club’s funds?”

“That would be me,” Skip answers, his tone sharp. “Why?”

“I have an order ready for her pump,” the man says, fingers tapping away at the keyboard. “It’ll be delivered in a few hours. Just need to make sure it’s an approved expense for the club.”

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