Page 93 of Property of Spike

I shake my head, laughing through my tears. “I don’t mind being called your property, Spike. Not even a little bit.” I pause, smirking up at him. “But just so we’re clear, I will never bow down to you.”

“That’s cute, baby,” Spike murmurs, leaning down until his lips are a breath away from mine. “But we both know you already have.”

I blink. “When?”

“Every single time you get on your knees for me.”

Skip groans. “I need to bleach my brain.”

Abby throws one of Asher’s soft books at Spike’s head. “You’re disgusting. I do not need to hear crap like that from my own brother.”

Spike just smirks, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his chest. “And yet, you all love me.”

I roll my eyes, still holding onto my gift. Yeah, I love this man. And no matter what life throws at us, I always will.

“Well, go on,” Skip says gleefully. “Put it on.”

“Yeah, baby,” Spike smiles, stepping back. “Show the world who you belong to.”

“Fine,” I laugh. “If it will make you happy, I’ll wear the vest.”

“It’s a cut,” Skip glares. “Don’t insult it by calling it a damn vest.”

With my new vest…cut…wrapped around my body, I laugh. Never in my life have I felt such joy.

“Your name is on my back,” I tell Spike, knowing he’ll understand.

His eyes widen, but I shake my head.

“It’s not the same, Spike,” I tell him. “This is something I choose to wear. Something I’m proud of. Something given to me out of love and not hate.”

Spike’s expression softens as he steps closer, his fingers tracing the edges of my cut. “Damn right, you should be proud,” he murmurs. “You’re my old lady, my wife, and now, officially, part of the Iron Shadows family.”

“Damn right!” Skip cheers, throwing a fist in the air.

I shake my head, laughing. “You just wanted to plan a party.”

“Guilty,” he grins. “But it’s also about welcoming you the right way.”

Abby crosses her arms, smirking. “I don’t know. I think we should make her do some kind of initiation.”

Skip gasps dramatically. “Oh! Maybe make her chug a beer, do a burnout on a bike, and wrestle Knuckles!”

Spike snorts. “I’m not letting my wife wrestle Knuckles.”

I raise a brow. “Because you’re worried I’d lose?”

He grins. “No. Because I’m worried you’d win, and his ego’s fragile.”

The room erupts in laughter, and as I glance around at the people who have become my family, warmth spreads through my chest.

I never thought I’d belong somewhere like this, but now, I can’t imagine my life anywhere else.

Chapter Thirty

Spike

Max is gone. I haven’t seen or heard from him in weeks, but something about the way he left doesn’t sit right with me. His actions aren’t adding up.

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