Page 1 of Ozma

Chapter One

Ozma

Two Years Ago

Pumpkin innards slid through Tip’s fingers as he swirled his palm around the carcass. He ripped the guts out, threw them in the grass at his feet, and pressed his digits back inside. The pungent odor wafted into his nostrils.

“I can think of a better use for your hands than that,” a deep voice said from behind him.

Tip rolled his eyes and turned to face Jack with a grin. “The pumpkins are keeping them a bit pre-occupied at the moment.” But they were itching to be somewhere else,onsomeone else.

Jack walked around Tip until he stood in front of him, his orange hair damp from his bath in the lake, his hazel irises greener than ever. Any lingering scent of Tip after they’d made love in Jack’s hut had been washed away. Tip still needed to bathe himself, but why bother when he was required to gut pumpkins? Mombi had to make her pies for the market so there wasn’t much time left.

They were well hidden on the side of Jack’s hut, diagonally across the field from the one Tip shared with Mombi. Both were the only homes within the witch’s magic barrier, and Mombi’s spells kept Tip and Jack from escaping. Tip had tried running away before, on numerous counts, and it was impossible.

Not taking his gaze from Jack’s, Tip slowly pressed his hand inside the pumpkin. Jack swiped his tongue against his lower lip, took the fruit from Tip’s hands, and set it to the side. Then Jack caged Tip against the hut and nudged Jack’s nose gently with his own. Blood rushed straight to Tip’s cock.

“Again?” Tip asked, inching closer to his lover.

“Again,” Jack whispered, softly licking Tip’s lips before pressing his mouth against his lover’s in a starved kiss.

Greedily, Tip kissed Jack back and pulled him down to the ground. Bits of pumpkin smeared Jack’s wet hair as he gripped it, making him dirty all over again.

Their mouths glided over one another, and Tip felt the firmness of Jack’s back as he slid his hand up his tunic. A groan escaped Tip as Jack reached between his legs and stroked him over his pants. The rush, the feeling, he needed him.

“Turn over,” Tip rasped, bringing them both forward.

“I like it when you’re demanding.” Jack grinned, kissing Tip right below the jaw.

Tip preferred when Jack mounted him, but there were moments, like these, where heneededto be inside Jack, desperately.

As Jack got onto his knees, he reached to unbuckle his pants and stilled, a glazed look appearing in his hazel eyes.

No. Not again. Tip sighed. He already knew there was nothing he could do to prevent Jack from leaving. Mombi enslaved his mind whenever she needed Jack to cross the barrier, and it terrified him and Tip.

“Jack, just be careful,” Tip urged.

“I always am.” Jack smiled, but it wasn’t his real smile.

“I love you.”

Jack didn’t return the sentiment as he scowled at the patch, hurrying to gather some of the pumpkins they’d collected that morning. He then placed them into a crate, his body twitching with the need to perform Mombi’s tasks.

“We’ll get the fuck out of here one day,” Jack finally said, peering over his shoulder. He released a heavy breath and headed off in the direction of the red-flowered trees, toward the barrier, to freedom for a little while. But Jack wasn’t free, just as Tip wasn’t. Jack had told him that he may be able to get out to run errands, but it didn’t mean anything, because he was still a slave while doing it. As soon as he crossed the barrier, he was compelled to finish Mombi's tasks. He couldn't remember things clearly—it was as if his mind was in a fog.

Tip groaned as he sat up—his length had softened, but he still missed the feel of Jack’s touch. He shoved his hand back into the pumpkin and finished cleaning it for Mombi. But his worry for Jack wouldn’t relent, so he focused on the one memory, years ago, that had changed everything between them.

Tip picked a few small pumpkins from the patch and set them aside. A thrashing of footsteps caused him to glance up and catch a head full of bright orange hair. He stilled and watched as Jack entered the pumpkin patch, his lips red and swollen after running errands in town. Again. Tip wasn’t as confident as Jack, always feeling like he didn’t fit in his body, so how could he expect Jack to find him attractive when he didn’t feel it himself? Blood coursed through Tip, and he felt it pumping at the vein on the side of his neck. He was angry. Hardly anything could make him truly angry. Not even Mombi. Not when she slapped him across his face, or when her nails bit into his flesh until he bled. Yet Jack’s swollen lips once more had Tip’s fists tightened and his jaw clenched.

Well, Tip was going to find a way out of his entrapment. And, when he did, Tip would be the only one making Jack’s lips red.

“Here,” Tip spat, picking up the shovel and throwing it into Jack’s hands.

Jack didn’t say anything, only narrowed his eyes at him. Tip had never let his emotions get to him this way, never been this harsh with Jack. But he didn’t care.

Tip could feel Jack’s eyes burning into his back as he headed out of the pumpkin patch and away from Mombi’s hut. After a day of work, Tip always walked back to Mombi’s. For sixteen years, he always had—he wasn’t one to disobey. But now he would. He would break through her magic barrier somehow. That was a promise.

After he stepped over the last row of newly bloomed pumpkins—still not yet orange—Jack’s hand clasped Tip’s wrist and tugged him back to his chest. “Where are you going?”

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