Page 128 of Runaways

"Still smells like tomato soup," Tate says, pulling the Ghostface mask over his head.

I make a face at him and then watch Silas pull something else from the bag.

I was expecting—I don't know—maybe something like what Zoey wore at the party the other night or a serial killer mask of my own. Instead, he lays out something that looks like fuzzy one-piece pajamas on the bed.

Fuzzy white pajamas with black spots. And then I notice the hood and the ears.

I'mnotwearing that.

I don't say it aloud, but Tate, seeing the look on my face, answers anyway. "You have to wear it. It's part of the game, Noah."

"Well, what's the game, Tate?" I ask. "What do I get?"

"A tip. And the internal satisfaction that comes with knowing how happy you've made me."

"What if I'd rather be poor and make you angry?"

"I think you've done enough of that, don't you?"

"The limit does not exist."

"Trust me, Noah," he says, closing the space between us. "The limit exists. And you've been well past it for a while now."

"And what do I have to do in this dog costume?"

I watch Silas put on his own mask and pull a leash from the bag. I narrow my eyes and he laughs.

"I just want to watch Silas take you for a walk. That's all."

"A walk where? Like around the room?"

"No, like down the street. Personally, I prefer to think of you as a kitten or a bunny when I think of you as our pet, but we'd lookpretty sillywalking one of those down the road, don't you think?"

I frown, not bothering to point out the ridiculousness of that comment. "No. I'm not doing that."

"It's Halloween, Noah," Silas says. "It's no big deal."

"Plus, Silas is really excited about it. Don't let him stand there and act like it was all my idea."

"Are you, Silas?" I ask. "Are you really excited to walk me like a dog?"

"Yeah, Noah, I really am," he says, adjusting his hard on.

He makes his point. I feel a rush of wet heat between my legs. Maybe I should do it.

"Fine."

I pull on the jumpsuit, zip the front, and slip into my tennis shoes. Silas kisses me, and I smile against his lips, his beard tickling my chin. He wraps his hand around my throat, squeezing before slipping his tongue into my mouth and deepening the kiss.

My knees are weak by the time he pulls away. I half-expect him to sayfuck itand throw me on the bed and tear my clothes off, but he doesn't. He pulls the hood over my head and gently tucks my hair inside before fastening a black leather studdedcollar around my neck, tightening it until it just digs into the skin.

"Make it a little tighter," Tate says.

Silas tightens the collar the smallest bit, but it's enough that I can feel a difference. A little bit of pain, a small imposition on my airway. Not enough to cause any issues, but enough to ensure I'm constantly aware of its presence and that someone else is in control of me.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't like that.

Silas clips the leash onto it and tugs hard once, taking my breath away. "How's that feel?" he asks, looking down into my eyes, his body mere centimeters from my own.

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