More Than Just Blood: Forever Twenty-One, #2

By J.S. Eades

Genny Dupont has a lot on her plate. Between working full time, training to be the best vampire slayer she can be, and preparing for her first trip, she hasn't had much chance to come to terms with the recent attempt on her and her sister Chloe's lives. She should be planning how to defeat their enemies. She should be helping Chloe manage her trauma. She should also be trying to mend her friendship with her ex-boyfriend JP, especially since he's accompanying her to France to testify at his uncle's murder trial. She should be doing a lot of things she isn't.

 

But the one thing Genny cannot do, the thing she shoves from her mind, although it never stays away long, is admit her feelings for Quinn. Acting on them would only complicate her life further, and undoubtedly drive a permanent wedge between her and JP. But even more concerning, Quinn is a vampire, one who has suffered more in his 139 years than she can imagine.

 

It's weird enough that a slayer and a vampire have grown so close. Anything more could only end in tragedy. At least that's what she's been told by other immortals. It's best if they just stay friends.

 

That's what she keeps reminding herself, but these feelings aren't going away. If anything they're growing. And they terrify her a lot more than the Vampire Assembly who still wants her dead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.S. Eades
• Release date: Mar 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9780993958243

J.S. Eades

I live in southwestern Ontario with my family. An avid traveler and scuba enthusiast, I can often be found exploring the warm waters of the Caribbean.Find me on Instagram - www.instagram.com/jseadesauthorI am current working on a supernatural series, the first book of which should be out in late 2020, and a fun stand-alone novel about fandom life is also in the planning stages.

Book preview

Forever Twenty-One * Book Two

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MORE THAN JUST BLOOD

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J.S. EADES

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright © 2022 J.S. Eades

Eades, J.S.

More Than Just Blood / J.S. Eades

ISBN: 978-0-9939582-4-3

Website: jseades.com

Facebook: facebook.com/AuthorJSEades

Twitter: twitter.com/JS_Eades

Instagram: instagram.com/jseadesauthor

This book is available in print at most of your favorite online book retailers.

Editorial Assistance: Dina Bielby, Eva Oktabcova, Allison Nelson, Shannon McIntyre, and Amanda Gaasenbeek

Cover Design: Heather D. Murray

Edition: March 2023 Google Play Books

I’d like to thank Heather, Dina, Shannon, Allison, and Amanda for all their help and support. I also want to give a massive thanks to my writing partner, Eva. Her constant feedback has helped me more than she could possibly know.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 — No Love Lost

Chapter 2 — Close To Me

Chapter 3 — No Big Deal

Chapter 4 — Strange Attraction

Chapter 5 — The Awakening

Chapter 6 — Up in the Air

Chapter 7 — Tour de France

Chapter 8 — Never Understand

Chapter 9 — No New Tale to Tell

Chapter 10 — Conviction

Chapter 11 — The Drowning Man

Chapter 12 — All in My Mind

Chapter 13 — A Night Like This

Chapter 14 — A Sort of Homecoming

Chapter 15 — The French Inquisition

Chapter 16 — The Killing Moon

Chapter 17 — Reunion

Chapter 18 — Cuts You Up

Chapter 19 — Love Like Blood

Chapter 20 — Waiting For the Flood

Chapter 21 — No Dark Things

Chapter 22 — Love Will Tear Us Apart

Chapter 23 — Dark Entries

Sneak Preview of BLOODFEATHERS

About the Author

Other Books by J.S. Eades

Chapter 1

No Love Lost

August 20, 1994, Paris, France

A vision in white, the Grand Mistress of the Vampire Assembly drifts into the room. She moves so gracefully she appears to float above the marble tiles.

The moment he sees her, Kellan Lahaine extinguishes his cigarette and gives her his undivided attention. Though he’s been waiting for a while, he’s not irritated by her tardiness. The truth is he cannot take his eyes off her. Lillabeta is perfection in stark hues of white, black, and red. White is most prominent, from the snug white gown that flows out below her waist, gleaming snowy hair in a long braid draped over one shoulder, and, of course, that flawless alabaster skin. Her kohl-rimmed eyes meet his as she takes a seat across from him. They are nearly identical to his own: jet black with red pupils, unlike any other vampire he’s ever met. He has no idea why, has never asked, nor particularly cared. And her lips...Kellan’s gaze darts to those plump, ruby-red lips. He’s been at Lillabeta’s side for over four hundred years and in all this time she’s never once failed to captivate him.

No human could ever fascinate him the way she does. He’d grow bored of them before even a single month passed. But Lillabeta is as far from human as a vampire can get. It’s not just her ethereal beauty, although no human could compare to that, either. She may be cold and ruthless, but Kellan knows the real her, the side she shows only to him. He’d do anything she asked of him to stay in her favor. He has, in fact, done pretty much everything, and he does not regret a single moment.

They’re on the upper floor of a neoclassical apartment block. Former apartment block, to be precise—the Assembly has owned this building for the past sixty years. It’s now a walled-off and guarded compound, and what suites haven’t been converted to conference rooms are no longer rented to humans. A High Council meeting is about to begin two floors below, but, as often happens, the Grand Mistress had wished to speak privately with him beforehand. High Council meetings, which are comprised of Lillabeta and her six most trusted advisors, used to be an uncommon thing. Lately they seem to happen several times a month.

My source has heard rumblings, she says by way of a greeting. Her voice is high and clear as her strange eyes hold his. The immortals are up to something. I believe they may be preparing to strike.

This is not the topic Kellan had assumed she’d wanted to discuss. He snorts. What source? Our inside man now rots away in their prison. Or dead. You told them to do as they wished with him.

At his scoffing, her face hardens. True, she replies, her tone a degree cooler. Losing René Levoyant was unfortunate, but it could not be helped. However, as you are aware, he was not my sole informant.

Although Kellan will always defer to Lillabeta’s decisions, he’s confident enough to speak frankly to her without fear of repercussions, a privilege granted only to one other. An attack on us seems doubtful. They have no true slayers left, which means we both outskill and outnumber them. Such an aggression would be suicide.

She doesn’t look appeased. The Bourreau girl took out Darius, and she was trained by a non-slayer. One pale eyebrow arches. Or have you forgotten?

I have not. She did not do it on her own, though. She had help from Sinclair. Kellan scowls. Filthy turncoats, both Sinclair and Veld. I admit I did not foresee that. I cannot imagine how she managed to sway them. There is nothing special about Geneviève Bourreau. She’s just a regular immortal human, perhaps a bit more defiant than some, reasonably attractive, sure, but otherwise rather ordinary in Kellan’s far from humble opinion. No reason he can see for them to put their eternal lives at risk for her. Except there clearly is one. And he intends to find out what it is.

Ah yes. The traitors. You have taken care of them. Lillabeta says this as if it’s an understood fact. Cassandra Veld and Quinn Sinclair betrayed the Assembly. Therefore they exist no more.

I’ve actually been meaning to discuss that with you. Kellan tents his fingers on the table in front of him. I’m sure you’ll agree that, as they are confidants of the Bourreau girls, allowing them to live—for now—could be to our advantage.

Lillabeta’s eyes narrow a few millimeters in the merest hint of a frown.

I’ve sent a couple of my men to Toronto to keep an eye on them, he continues. From a discreet distance, of course. Veld is a skilled tracker, so they have been warned not to get close. I receive reports of what they’re up to, which for the record is very little. Of note, Geneviève is no longer training with the Levoyants. Instead, she now trains with the vampires.

The Grand Mistress is displeased, which Kellan had expected. Treason is an act punishable by death. The traitors know this. Why did they not go into hiding? Why stay where they know we can find them? It is suspicious.

"You’re correct, and I’ve considered that. It is odd, and something I intend to find out. For now, knowing their movements could prove useful. Let them sit there in fear, constantly looking over their shoulders. They can’t even use magic to hide—all their mages are long dead. So it doesn’t matter if they stay or flee. They are mere fruit for the picking whenever we choose."

Squaring her shoulders, she says, That may be, but I still do not like it. There’s a note of petulance to her tone. Sometimes in moments like this Kellan thinks he still sees hints of the human girl she’d once been so long ago. Such glimpses are rare, and he locks each one away in his memory banks for later consideration.

Then why didn’t we kill them a few weeks ago when we had the chance? he asks.

Make no mistake, they will die. As you well know, there were more pressing issues that needed our attention.

He does well know, because those issues are not yet fully resolved. They concern an enemy far more worrisome than the two surviving Bourreau girls. But Lillabeta seems to consider both threats equally problematic, so he listens calmly to her concerns.

You’re correct, she declares suddenly, surprising him. The girls are untrained and not a true risk at the moment. Geneviève Bourreau can spar with her vampires all she wants. When the time comes, she will pose no threat to us. The expression on Lillabeta’s face says that by us she means herself. She intends to personally destroy the last of the Bourreaus. And Kellan will be by her side to witness their deaths with grim satisfaction.

Not yet, he ventures. Perhaps someday she might.

We shall ensure they do not live long enough for that day to come. For now, do your job and dispose of the traitors, as is their due. I don’t care how. Just see that it is done.

As you wish, he concedes, dipping his chin in supplication.

It is the law. They betrayed me. They die. You should have had them executed weeks ago. He bristles inside at the disapproval in her voice, but his face remains impassive.

Of course. I wanted— Kellan’s words are cut short by a cool hand covering his mouth and the simultaneous press of a curved blade to his throat. A scimitar. Fuck.

Lillabeta offers an amused smile as she looks up at the woman standing behind him. Hello Juliette.

The blade vanishes and Kellan spins to face the dark assassin. Bloody hell! Was that really necessary? Juliette and Lillabeta are the only two creatures on this planet who are capable of sneaking up on him. He doesn’t mind when Lillabeta deliberately startles him—it usually amuses him—but he’s always found Juliette unsettling. The assassin has an uncanny talent for making herself disappear into the background. When she chooses, she’s unseen, unheard—a virtual ghost. And her skill with weaponry is absolutely unmatched. It’s no wonder Lillabeta keeps her happy. Juliette has the well-earned reputation as the most dangerous vampire on earth.

The burst of laughter that erupts from Lillabeta at his irritation is child-like at best, venturing into unhinged territory at worst.

Grand Mistress. Juliette bows. She is dressed in tight-fitting black leather and her black curls are cropped close to her scalp. Glancing at him with eyes as dark as her ebony skin, she simply says, Kellan.

He frowns. She should refer to him by rank, not by his given name. It’s disrespectful, as had been the pantomime of the knife to his throat. Yet Kellan does not correct her. Juliette’s message is clear. She answers to the Grand Mistress and the Grand Mistress alone.

I didn’t realize you would be joining us, he says. Inside he adds, you complete and utter freak.

I summoned her, Lillabeta tells him coolly.

Did you now? Kellan wonders why she hadn’t mentioned it. Perhaps she enjoys the rare chance to witness her General and longtime companion caught off guard? Then he reconsiders. No perhaps about it.

I did. Lillabeta gestures with one lily-white hand toward an empty chair. Please have a seat, Juliette. I have a mission for you.

Chapter 2

Close To Me

September 10, 1994, Toronto, Canada

It’s too quiet. As she stands stock-still near the rear of the backyard, Genny Dupont’s entire body is on high alert. The house lights are off and only the slight glow from the crescent moon filters through the leaves above, yet her eyes dart back and forth, searching for any slight movement. Every muscle is taut and ready. One hand is balled into a fist at her side, the other clutches her weapon in the ready position by her ear.

An attack is imminent, but from where? She hears nothing out of the ordinary. Less than ordinary, in fact. No cats prowl nearby, no mice hunt for seeds in the long grass along the fence. All the small creatures can sense danger. She hasn’t even heard a car drive by recently.

She strains for the sound of breath, but the only breathing she can detect is her own. She makes a mental note to work on controlling this. If she can hear it, so can her adversary.

It won’t be long now. Her opponent has certain patterns Genny has picked up over these past five weeks. She decides to test how accurate her intuition is this time.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

There’s a sudden whoosh of air being displaced on her left, but she’s learned her lessons well and she swivels to the right, grabbing the arm that reaches for her and thrusting forward and up with the wooden stake.

One.

A peal of laughter erupts from Cassandra. The backyard light goes on as she collapses to the ground and clutches her chest in mock-injury. You’re finally learning patience, young grasshopper, she teases. She wears a black hooded sweatshirt with the hood up, the drawstrings pulling the fabric into a circle around her face. Her dark eyes sparkle with delight as she gets to her feet.

Great form, Quinn tells Genny, stepping away from the wall by the rear door where he has been watching. She turns to squint at him in the sudden glare. It’s hardly fair that they can always see her perfectly. Though she can spot their auras if she looks closely—she learned a few months ago that vampires give off a faint pinkish glow—Cassandra is doing her best to cover most of her skin. Her glorious red curls are hidden below her hood and she wears gloves to make it harder for Genny to find her in the dark.

A small smile surfaces as Genny tucks the stake with the deliberately rounded-off point back into her pocket. Thanks. She’s proud of herself, but she’s also pleased to hear the pride in his voice.

Again, Cassandra tells her.

Mind if I watch? Dawn, Genny’s best friend since they’d been kids, has come outside to join them. Dawn has lived here with Quinn and Cassandra since she’d become a vampire herself two months ago. She’d been attacked by an assassin sent to kill Genny. Quinn had turned her rather than let her die of her injuries, and Genny will forever be grateful to him for saving Dawn’s life. Even if it had made her undead. Being a vampire is a hell of a lot better than being for-real dead.

One more. Then I’m taking a break, Genny agrees, walking toward Quinn with her back deliberately to Cassandra.

Dawn flicks off the light and the yard once more goes dark and silent as her friends move into their chosen positions. Genny tries to focus on any movements from behind her, but she detects nothing. Cassandra must have moved around the side. Genny’s making an assumption, though, and assumptions are not a good habit to get into. Immortal or not, assumptions can get a slayer killed.

She’s guessing Cassandra will come at her again. Cassandra is almost always the one challenging her, just as Quinn is almost always the one training with Dawn. Genny’s not sure why—any discussion they may have had about it hadn’t included her—but those are the pairings they tend to stick with.

Quinn and Dawn aren’t sparring right now, which means she should expect it to be any of them. Genny moves part way down the driveway and leans against the side of the house. The darkness doesn’t hide her actions from the vampires—they still know exactly where she is—but the wall prevents anyone from jumping her from behind.

The house blocks the moon, but the faint amber glow from the nearest streetlight allows her to see a little. As she waits, she tries to focus on controlling her breathing. In and out. Slow and careful. Her eyes flick left and right, hunting for the slightest movement. Waiting. Trying to relax and remember her training.

You’ve got this, she thinks. Nothing to be scared of. Just a centuries-old vampire about to attack me. No big deal.

At that, she feels her breath start to quicken again. She knows there’s no need to worry. Her friends won’t actually hurt her, and even if by some accident they did, she’d heal right away. She’s an immortal, after all. Heck, even if a strange vampire had been attempting to sneak up on her, she’s also a vampire slayer. Although she’s only been aware of this for three months, she’s already managed to kill two vampires. Any vampire who tried to attack her would regret it. And they wouldn’t have time to regret it for long.

So what does she have to be nervous about? Just making a fool of herself in front of her friends.

In front of him, the voice in her head whispers. All of them, she argues back.

She moves away from the brick. No cowering against the wall for her. Focusing on the air around her, she tries to detect any little waft of movement. There’s no breeze, and the evening is cool. It’s a nice change from the summer heat.

Just then, a car passes out on the street and Genny instinctively turns toward the sound. It’s a mistake. While her attention is momentarily diverted, Cassandra seizes her by the shoulder and shoves her back against the wall. Genny snaps back into focus and twists free from the vampire’s grip, moving out into the open again. When Cassandra reaches for her a second time, Genny is ready and they begin to spar.

Attack. Block. Change position. Repeat. Genny has gotten good at this over the past few months. Every lunge Cassandra makes, she effectively stops. There’s enough light to see her opponent’s outline, but Cassandra can move fast, far faster than any human. It takes every ounce of Genny’s concentration to meet her blows, but meet each one she does.

Finally, she sees her opening and grabs Cassandra’s arm instead of blocking it, twisting her off balance and onto the ground. Immediately, Genny straddles her and presses the rounded point of the stake into her ribcage.

Cassandra grins, but it’s not her usual approving grin. Genny has just time to think it looks a little smug when she feels the normal tingle intensify and arms wrap around her waist from behind, lifting her right off Cassandra.

Quinn.

Breath tickles her neck as he murmurs by her ear, You’re dead. His soft chuckle sends a shiver over her.

Quinn’s hands are still on her waist, but he’s relaxed his grip, assuming this is over. Taking advantage, Genny seizes him by the wrist. She tries to ignore the surge of current from skin to skin contact as she twists away from him, using her foot to unlock the back of one of his knees and sends him to the pavement.

Not yet, she thinks at him, smirking.

Dawn’s and Cassandra’s laughter joins her own as she extends a hand to him and helps him up.

Nice one, Quinn tells her with a smile, brushing the dust off his jeans.

Dawn, still at the back corner of the house, flicks on the outside light again. Call it a night? I’m gonna make us drinks.

A few minutes later, they’re all sitting in the living room with glasses in their hands. Cassandra stretches out on the couch beside Dawn and takes a long swig of whiskey. Turning to Genny, she says, Getting excited about your trip, Slayer?

She’s referring to Genny’s upcoming trip to France. It’s not a vacation, though. Far from it. Genny has to go to her family’s ancestral village to testify against her ex-boyfriend’s uncle, René Levoyant. He’d betrayed the Bourreau family for decades, maybe centuries, and had nearly gotten her and her sister Chloe killed back in July. Originally Chloe had planned to go with her, but last month they’d learned she’d failed grade twelve Geography, so she needs to retake it to get her diploma. She’s fast-tracking the class so she can re-write the exam next month, and Gran had insisted that studying so she can graduate is too important to miss a week. Marie Levoyant, the accused’s sister-in-law, had put in a request to excuse Chloe from testifying in person. It had been begrudgingly granted, as long as she submits a detailed written testimony. Genny already has Chloe’s account of everything sealed in an envelope in her half-packed suitcase.

She shrugs. Not really. Maybe I should be ‘cause I’ve never left Canada before, but the thought of spending so long travelling with JP and his mom, and then having to relive that awful night in court in front of all these strangers who knew my whole family, but don’t know me—well, let’s just say I don’t expect it to be a whole lotta fun.

Have you spoken to him lately? Dawn asks sympathetically. She means JP.

Shaking her head, Genny says, No. Marie called yesterday to tell me we leave next Friday. She pauses with a sigh. My first ever time on an airplane, and it’s gonna be eight hours of painful awkwardness with my ex. I won’t even have Chloe as a buffer now.

Maybe you guys will spend your forced confinement talking things out and end up friends again. Or back together. Never know, Cassandra says, smirking.

She’s teasing, and Genny knows it, but instead of smiling back, she looks away. Though it had been Genny who’d initiated the break-up, it had been harsh and painful, and they’ve barely spoken since. Not likely, she mutters.

When she raises her eyes again, she sees Quinn watching her. He doesn’t comment, but she can’t help wondering what he’s thinking. It’s not gonna happen, she thinks at him.

He just shrugs.

Dawn glances between them and frowns. Are you two doing that thing again? Talking mentally? Because it’s kind of rude to do it in front of us.

Cassandra drapes an arm around Dawn’s shoulders. Yep. Rude. But typical. I’m pretty much used to it now.

It’s difficult to have a secret conversation when it only works one way, Quinn responds dryly.

Genny and Quinn had discovered when they’d met that they share a strange connection. She can physically feel whenever Quinn is nearby. All the hair on the back of her neck rises, and she gets a sort of thrumming sensation over her skin—a feeling she’s named the Quinn Tingle, much to Cassandra and Dawn’s amusement. Not long after, they’d also realized that Genny can send Quinn mental messages, even if he’s nowhere near. She plans to test it from France to see if it will still work when they’re thousands of miles apart. Unfortunately, this ability is one-sided. Quinn can’t communicate thoughts to her. Neither of them understands why they’re connected, but they assume it’s some sort of spell. What they don’t know is why.

She’s been told that her mother Angelique, her grandmother Madeleine, and several of her ancestors had been able to use magic. The word witch is apparently considered a derogatory term, so they’d called themselves mages. But why would any mage want to connect Genny, an immortal slayer by birth, to a vampire, her natural—or, more correctly, supernatural—enemy? Quinn, of course, is not like most other vampires. He’s her friend, and she’s sure he’d never hurt her, but how could any mage know that? Even if they had somehow known Quinn, why would they assume he and Genny would ever meet? It makes no sense. Now that she no longer has JP in her life, who is a self-proclaimed immortal historian and is super knowledgeable about her Bourreau ancestors, she has no way to research the mages in her family. Maybe when she’s in Lentemps next week she’ll have a chance to look into it. For now, she’s just grateful the connection exists, because over the past three months Quinn has become an integral part of her life.

So just talk out loud then, Dawn replies, leaning into Cassandra’s side.

Yeah, sorry. Genny eyes the two of them. Although no one has voiced it yet, Dawn and Cassandra are clearly together. Like together-together. If Genny doesn’t feel like going home, the spare room bed is always available now. She doesn’t know exactly when Dawn had started sleeping in Cassandra’s room, but she does know she’s never seen her best friend happier.

She stifles a yawn. Checking her watch, she sees it’s past eleven. No wonder she’s starting to get sleepy.

You want a lift home? Cassandra asks. Or shall I have another drink and you just sleep here?

Cassandra and Dawn look comfortable and content, and Genny doesn’t want to bother them for a ride. Do you mind? she asks, her gaze flicking back to Quinn.

Of course not. He brushes a hand through his short brown hair, but the wavy forelock falls right back into place on his forehead. Let me change the sheets for you.

Before Genny can thank him, he’s gone up the stairs and she hears the hinges of the hall closet squeak.

Can I use your phone? she asks Cassandra, already up and heading toward the kitchen where it’s mounted on the wall above the counter.

Sure.

As Genny passes the couch where they sit, she sees Dawn’s head lean toward Cassandra’s and she smiles knowingly. She remembers the giddy feeling of new love well.

After two rings, her sister Chloe picks up. Lo?

Hi. It’s me. Just letting you know I’m gonna stay here tonight. At Quinn’s.

Whatever. She doesn’t sound like Genny has woken her up, but Chloe’s clearly not in the mood to chat.

Can you leave a note for Gran so she doesn’t worry when I’m not there in the morning? After everything that had happened back in July, Genny has been extra careful to let people know where she is. And Chloe hasn’t been going out much at all.

There’s a soft sigh. Sure.

Before she can say anything else, her sister hangs up. Teenagers, Genny thinks, although at only twenty-one, it hadn’t been long since she’d been a teen herself. Chloe will be turning eighteen in another month. Time seems to be whipping by.

She returns to her chair and picks up her glass, downing the rest of her drink. A second yawn escapes. With another glance at the cuddly couple on the couch, she decides to give them some privacy. Guess all that training did me in. I’m heading upstairs. If you guys’re already asleep by the time I get up, I’ll talk to you later.

Dawn disentangles herself from Cassandra and stands to give Genny a hug. That’s okay. I think we’re going out for dinner soon anyway. ‘Night.

G’night. Genny heads up the stairs to find Quinn tucking a fresh sheet onto the single bed in the spare room.

Thanks, she tells him. By any chance could I borrow a shirt to sleep in again? Maybe I should just leave some pajamas here.

Already got you one. He holds up a green, plaid button-up. It looks long enough to work as a nightgown.

You’re the best, she says as she takes it from him.

He smiles. Tell that to Cassandra.

Laughing, Genny steps back into the hall and calls down the steps, Quinn says to tell you I said he’s the best.

She hears laughter, Cassandra’s throaty and rich and Dawn’s a single loud burst. Wait until you’ve known him for nearly seven decades. You will revise your opinion, Cassandra replies loudly, and Dawn snorts again.

Instead of going back to the spare room, Genny heads for the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. When she returns to the room, the bed is made, but Quinn is gone. She turns to look for him, and as she does, he steps out of his own bedroom across the hall.

Time to sleep? he asks. She notices his pale gray eyes flick down to her bare legs below the hem of the shirt. But just for a second.

Guess so. She glances toward the stairs before looking back at him. Come in and talk for a bit?

They’ve already left, he assures her as he crosses the hall to join her.

This is not new. Whenever Genny stays over, she and Quinn usually spend some time chatting before she falls asleep.