21

As John Shelby looked out across the house, lined with Russian's decked in uniforms and weapons, he almost laughed. If only they knew how many times he had come to that very house, mad from anger or confused with lust. He wanted to spit the fact in their faces. Especially when he saw that she wasn't there to greet them.

"All right, boys, just remember. They are fucking insane," Tommy said, as they stopped outside the car.

Fucking insane. How many times had he called Ana that? It was true. But so were they. The Peaky Blinders- mental from their ambitions.

"And dangerous and drunk on stuff we've never heard of. And worse than us for spirits and ghosts. Today they're going to test us".

"Fuck them," John scoffed out, but he couldn't help the smirk that pulled onto his face.

He was beside Arthur, behind Tommy as they walked down the drive way, Tatiana hanging to greet them in the middle. Footsteps echoed through the moth space, not a movement out of place from the soldiers. But Arthur couldn't help the snarl that graced his face.

"Russians- all turned and ran," he spat.

"The Cossacks didn't run, Arthur."

They stopped momentarily in the centre of the path. Tatiana didn't bother to look behind Tommy to his brothers. Her eyes were trailed on him, taking in every inch as if she hadn't seen it all already.

"Mr Shelby, welcome. How's my car?"

"I think I'm in love with it," Tommy drawled, as indifferent as ever.

"And I yours. So we should keep what we love, yes?" She said. "Excuse the reception. Whenever we open the treasury, the Cossacks are on guard."

They entered the house, being shown through the hallway and into the library. Ana's library. She wasn't there either. John and Arthur searched it, standing in the middle of the room like they owned it. They were smirking too, matching the glint that was mirrored in the eyes of the Russian beauty who hung at Tommy's side. They stared at him expectantly.

"In Russia, men on the other side of the law decorate their body in tattoos. Now, some of these tattoos are proof of allegiance to underground organisations, which are the sworn enemies of the royal household," said Tommy. Arthur and John shared glances. "So It's customary in Russian royal households to check for such tattoos before engaging in business. And as we approach the alloyed day, these ladies here would like to make sure that you're not assassins or infiltrators."

Arthur laughed gruffly, his hands held behind his back like the obedient soldier he was. "No, were all good."

"So they would like to check your skin."

Had John been laughing like Arthur, he would have spluttered out a cough. But he rubbed his nose awkwardly, blinking, as if waiting for him to repeat the words- as if he had made a mistake.

"They wanna check our skin?"

"Yeah," Tommy said, and John couldn't miss the hint of a cheeky smile on his lips. He was adept at finding those shorts of things. But this time, it just made him grit his teeth and listen. "Now, my body's already been checked. Although at the time, I wasn't sure that was the reason."

He was met with no laughs.

"And now it's your turn," he said. "Come on boys, take your clothes off."

"Fuck off," Arthur said, his teeth gritted too.

Tatiana had already moved to stand in front of the pair, her dark eyes trailing them like a bird circling its prey. John suddenly felt small as she stood in front of his brother, not tall enough to match his lanky figure but still staring him down as if she was double his build.

"Obey," sen hissed, her stare not wavering.

He looked to his brother, but Tommy shook his head. "Obey, Arthur."

"No, I won't be obeying nobody. Get out of my way, both of you." He started forward swiftly, but an arm was placed on his shoulder.

"Arthur, come here."

"I told you they're all fucking mad. They're only half joking. Let the ladies have their fun. Eh?" Tommy spoke in Romany, Tatiana close to his shoulder.

Arthur nodded reluctantly and moved to stand back next to John, the two women moving to stand in place in front of them. He was first to remove his shirt, ripping it open from the middle, the buttons dropping to the floor. Each one went down slowly, slipping across the flooring and taunting him with their meaning. The tattoo of the cross on his chest burned his skin.

"Come on Arthur!"

John had already ripped his top layers off, his shirt now laying carelessly on the floor. He was halfway to dropping his pants.

"Shut up, John."

"I will have a maid gather the buttons and sew them back on," Tatiana said.

The women circled them, eyes never straying. Eyes not shy. John was bare, but he stood proudly, his hands behind his head and face pulled easily into a smirk.

"Remember he is the most dangerous. He is the prettiest." Spoke in Russian.

Arthur was close to trembles, his hands in fists to his side.

"Alright. Fuck it." He pulled the remainder of his clothes down. "There you go ladies. Made in fucking Birmingham."

"Alright, I think we've seen enough, eh?" Tommy moved to stand, but Izabella motioned forward. He watched them carefully.

Tatiana lowered herself, eyes never moving from Arthur's reddening face. His knuckles were burning white from his harsh grip. Even John had quietened, watching his brother's face as he huffed in and out, controlling himself. He stifled a laugh.

"Your face, Arthur, is a fucking picture," he snorted.

"Sometimes assassins hide their allegiances behind their balls," Tatiana said, as low as she needed.

John was laughing highly, his face contorted with hilarious surprise. That was until the door open and in slipped the girl he had searched for since the car pulled up. His face dropped, as did his proud and arrogant stance.

He hadn't felt so exposed until Ana had entered, walking purposefully slow to sit by the window. He felt bare despite the fact she had seen every inch of him already, and him her. But here, it was one sided. He was stripped and not given the luxury of her opinion, of her soothing and encouraging moans. The sounds that made him feel whole and adorned.

"But you pass the test, soldier. With flying colours," Tatiana rose, turning to glance to her sister. "You see. He wants to be a good man."

John had forgotten all about his brother until she spoke. Arthur stood panting, his teeth almost breaking under the force of his anger. John swallowed, his hands dropping to his sides.

"But there. Inside everyman there is a devil."

John's own devil was lust. God, how many women had he felt this way about, just like Ana? But if he was being truthful, the answer was none. He had never felt like this way. This wasn't lust. But it was still a sin, either way.

"It is traditional to seal the successful elimination with vodka and music," Izabella said, Ana and Tatiana leaving quickly behind her so they could dress.

John stood still for a few moments after she left. The feeling of exposure still remained. He had never felt so meek.

"Holy fuck, Tom. What was that?" He breathed out, pulling the pants over his legs.

"Well done boys. Eh? Well done Arthur," Tommy said, patting him on the back. "Now you know what you have to do next. Alright? One last job. Make contact and play nice."

They got dressed and followed him out the room and into another. It seemed the party was already in full swing, as even from outside in the hallway, the sounds of shouts and laughs and even moans were loud.

Inside was as wild as John had imagined. The Russians were mad, evidently so. Lustful sounds came from each and every corner, from any pairing possible, in positions even John had never seen. Drink swung from bottles, not a single glass in sight. He couldn't see Ana either.

It wasn't until later, when he was surrounded by maids, half undressed and two empty bottles of vodka by his feet, that he saw her. She made a round, her dress a deep red, standing out against the colours of skin that shone with sweat. She was walking so he would see her- John could tell. So he pushed the women away, eyes trailing her until she got even a little bit close.

"Ana."

Her eyes drifted to him, having already seen his position. But she took nothing from it, prowling over, a drink in hand. She said, "I came for a drink. It seems you'll drink the house dry. That's saying something."

John was feeling drunker than he should have been. It was the sight of her, she decided, that made him feel this way, giddy and young. Like a teenager infatuated. He flung his arm out before he knew what he was doing, placing his hand on her wrist and dragging her to sit down. Straight in his lap.

"Come sit," he said, as she was already sitting, eyes staring straight back into his.

"In all this?" She whispered. The vodka had spilled as he had hugged her, coating her dress in the strong scent.

"Sit without it if you'd like," he said, the cheeky grin spreading on his lips. She glared playfully. "Don't want your sister to see?"

"No," she leaned in, her lips lingering next to his. "No. I don't care."

He leaned in to meet her lips, but Ana pulled black with a grin as she took a drink. Her hands were placed on his shoulders. "Have fun with Tatiana?"

John snorted. He didn't have the energy to give a clever reply. All he could think about was her kiss. "My brother did."

Ana smiled, leaning back from him, his hands on her waist to keep her falling.

"Want to know the difference between me and my sister, Mr Shelby?"

John paused, his breath hitching in his throat as he watched her lean her head back, exposing the smooth, pale skin from beneath her feathered shawl, her eyes fluttering shut. Ana smiled, feeling his gaze piercing through her. He was so enthralled by her, captivated by every movement, that he was almost drooling by the time she answered, her voice sultry.

"I don't need to touch you to have an effect." She whispered.

"Fucking hell."

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