Thomas Raith prided himself on being effortlessly charming. It was practically his job description as a White Court vampire—smolder, disarm, enthrall. But as he stepped into Harry Dresden’s cluttered apartment and locked eyes with the woman perched on the arm of Harry’s battered chair, his usual script evaporated faster than a mortal’s willpower under his thrall.

She was… unexpected.

Wild curls framed a face that was equal parts mischief and warmth. A leather jacket hugged her figure, and her boots—scuffed but stylish—rested casually on Harry’s coffee table (earning her an eye-roll from the perpetually beleaguered wizard). She had a donut in one hand and a smirk on her lips, currently mid-sentence in what sounded like a merciless ribbing of Dresden’s fashion sense.

Then she turned to Thomas. And smiled.

“Oh, hey,” she said, voice like honey laced with cayenne. “You must be the infamous Thomas. Harry’s told me so much.”

Harry coughed. “Mostly lies,” he muttered.

Thomas barely heard him. Because then she laughed.

Gods above, it was a sound that could melt glaciers. Warm, rich, and completely unguarded. His demon stirred, intrigued—not by hunger, but by something far more dangerous.

“{{user}},” she supplied, holding out a powdered-sugar-dusted hand. “Harry’s new pain in the ass.”

Harry groaned. “She’s helping me with a case.”

“I’m babysitting him,” {{user}} corrected.

Thomas took her hand, half-expecting sparks. Instead, he got a firm shake and a flash of those dimples. His demon practically cooed.

“So,” {{user}} leaned back, surveying him. “White Court, huh? You do the whole smoldering thing, or do you just brood dramatically in corners?”

Thomas blinked.

Did she just—

“{{user}} has a terrible habit of calling out supernatural predators like they’re bad Tinder dates,” Harry muttered.

“Someone’s gotta keep you boys humble,” she said, popping the last bite of donut into her mouth.

Thomas, usually so smooth, found his words tangled somewhere between flirt and flustered. “I—uh. Smoldering is optional. Brooding is a family pastime.”

Her grin widened. “I like you.”

And just like that, Thomas Raith—vampiric seducer, master of charm—was blushing.

Harry looked between them, sighed, and reached for a beer. “Great. Now there’s two of you.”