There's a part of Genya that hates the way the kefta looks on her after Alina leaves. She supposes that it's guilt rising like bile up her throat. Every time she sees a crimson thread in her earned position, she feels it. Like she can't stand the sight of herself.
Which is ridiculous. The sight of herself has been one of the few things she can hold onto, that comforts her when nothing else can.
With a growl, she turns her back on the mirror, staring down at herself again. Alina hadn't been able to see the big picture. All she could see was the harm done to her, but it was so insignificant in the face of what others had faced to get here. Painful, yes. Wrong, definitely. But insignificant.
"Are you actually going to rip it off, or are you going to wear it with pride?" There's a sneer in Ivan's familiar voice, and when she looks up, it makes the look on his face as well.
Of course he's here. Of course he'd find her like this, torn between her own emotions. He wouldn't feel guilty, Genya realizes.
It's not really Ivan's style.
She straightens up immediately, popping a hip out as she puts her hand on it. Her chin tilts up, imperious, cold. He doesn't get to see her like this. Not so that he can mock her again. "Why? Do you want to see what's underneath?"
His gaze moves over her, drinking her in. Yes. He does. It's written all over his face. Her breath quickens, but she ignores it. He's just another handsome face with cruelty hidden behind it.
It takes her a second of silence, with him moving further into her tent, before she realizes she's the same way. A beautiful, exquisite face that hides her own cruelties. Like burning letters and lying to the only friend she has ever had and poisoning the king.
That last one is so very well-deserved, though.
Ivan reaches his hands out to her, and she stays still. She's been here before, been trapped in this position. He's going to kiss her, and he's going to tear the kefta from her body.
Instead, his fingers tug the fabric roughly back up, straightening it out for her.
Her brows furrow in confusion. "What are you doing?"
"If the Darkling let you have it, then you deserve to wear it. You're Corporalki. Act like it instead of giving us a bad name." His lip curls up as he says it. Disgust. He's disgusted at her guilt, and she has to laugh.
She's disgusted, too.
"What I do does not reflect on you, Ivan." She pats him on the chest before moving out of his orbit. He pivots to watch her as she moves about the tent.
"Just on the name of the Darkling."
"And you're here now to protect his interests?" She gives him an easy smirk, looking him over. Playing the part is easy for her. "Do you have some Grisha senses we are unaware of, that told you I was having doubts?"
He follows her now. "Are you having doubts?"
She shouldn't have said that. She should be smarter. Letting him have any advantage over her is a slippery slope. "Go away."
"I can see right through you."
"And why do you want to? What sort of game are you playing at?"
Ivan hovers over her now, crowding her into the wall of the tent, and her heart picks up pace. Fear. She's like a little rabbit caught in the jaws of a rabid wolf, and she doesn't like it. She swore she wouldn't feel this way again, never again.
"This is why I prefer David," she spits at him.
"Yes, the nice one." His fingers slide over her cheeks, rough. He cups her face and tilts it back. "I scare you."
"I'd be stupid to not be scared."
"And Genya Safin is anything but stupid."
It sounds like praise. She hates it. And him. And how close he is.
"Ivan apparently is, though," she growls.
"I'm interested in you," he speaks plainly. "Not because of the way you look, but because of what I can see behind it."
That gives her pause again. Said by anyone else, and she'd probably be swooning. She'd probably be kissing him right now. But Ivan is rough and cruel and straightlaced. He isn't romantic, but apparently, he is deep.
Her head tilts. It's confusion and need and a fierce desire to understand what he sees in her that has him sniffing around again and again to simply harass her.
"I'm not done lying to myself," she tells him.
"I don't care," he responds. And kisses her. He kisses her hard, his mouth suffocating when his lips form over hers.
He's a stupid brute of a man, it's true.
He's taking liberties that have always been taken from her.
Genya rolls her eyes, pushes against his chest until he's given her the space to catch her breath. "You're terrible at this." Her mouth crashes against his, but it's with more finesse. She can breathe, she can be in control.
His hands slip into her perfect hair, destroying every bit of work she did to it. In retaliation, she bites him, teeth digging into his lip until she tastes blood and he groans. It's a deep, low sound that reverberates through her. It shouldn't make her want him more. Not the way he sounds or the taste of his blood on her tongue.
Genya tells herself it's because she's acting out. Because Alina has left and people are dead and the Darkling is hurt. It's because Ivan came back to harass her and because David is still clueless and lost in himself.
"Are you still lying?" He breathes into her ear, body pressing into hers.
"Mm, yes," she manages to say with all the poise she can muster. "I am."