The Matchmaker (by Sophie Smith) novel Chapter 77

Matchmaker

CHAPTER 77

Asher and Zafira were statues–still, locked in each other’s gaze as though the room had ceased to exist the moment their eyes met. Saphira stood just to the side, one hand resting on the edge of the bed, but she didn’t dare move. Something sacred had woven itself into the air–raw, electric, ancient.

Zafira’s whispered question still echoed: “Are you… my mate?”

Asher swallowed hard, like the weight of that word had settled in his throat. He took a cautious step forward, his voice barely audible but thick with

certainty.

“My dragon…” He hesitated, jaw tightening. “He’s not just whispering. He’s roaring. Telling me you’re mine.”

Zafira’s breath hitched. Her fingers curled into the blanket beneath her as tears threatened at the corners of her eyes–not fear, but something that trembled between awe and disbelief.

Saphira’s heart ached at the quiet vulnerability radiating from both of them. She offered a soft smile and stepped back, her voice warm, gentle. “I’ll give you two some space. Sounds like there’s a lot to… work out.”

Asher barely acknowledged her–his attention still wrapped tightly around Zafira. But Zafira’s gaze flicked briefly to Saphira, gratitude shimmering there.

Saphira slipped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her with a soft click.

The hallway felt cooler in contrast, a breath of calm after the emotional weight she’d just stepped through. She took the stairs two at a time, the need to share what had just happened buzzing behind her ribs.

When she reached Nikolas‘ office, the door was already ajar.

Inside, he paced–long strides back and forth across the floor, one hand raking through his hair, the other clenched at his side.

Saphira stepped in. “Nikolas?”

He looked up, startled, like she’d caught him mid–storm. “I can’t get through to Jed.” His voice was tight, frustrated. “No messages. No check–ins. It’s been too long.”

Her pulse faltered briefly, but she kept her voice calm. “It hasn’t been twenty–four hours yet,” she reminded him softly, stepping closer. “You know how careful they have to be. If the signal’s not safe, they won’t risk it.”

He stared past her for a moment, jaw flexing.

Saphira reached out, gently taking his hand in hers. “They’ll check in when they can. They’re smart. Trained, You trust them.”

Nikolas exhaled slowly, the tension in his should

easing just a fraction. He gave a short nod, his fingers tightening around hers.

She let him breathe for a moment before adding, “Also… something happened with Zafira.”

His brow lifted slightly. “Good or bad?”

Saphira’s lips curved. “Let’s just say… Asher walked in at the right–or wrong–time.”

Nikolas blinked once. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she said with a small laugh. “Mate–bond confirmed.”

Nikolas moved and stood behind his desk, arms braced against the surface, head bowed. His expression was unreadable, but she could see it in the tension of his shoulders. Something was shifting beneath his surface: not resistance. Not doubt. Worry.

“They don’t know for sure,” he said finally, his voice low and tightly controlled. “Not until they… mark.

Saphira’s brow knit as she stepped closer, the word sitting heavy in the air between them,

CHAPTER 77

Nikolas pushed off the desk and began to pace, one hand dragging through his hair. “What if they’re wrong? What if he’s wrong? Once she marks him–if she does–that’s it. She’s tied to him. Forever.”

His voice sharpened slightly at the end, that protective edge cutting through,

Saphira’s eyes softened. She moved without hurry, stepping into his path and resting a gentle hand against his arm. “Nikolas,” she said quietly.

He stopped. Chest rising and falling just a little too fast.

“She’s not a child,” she murmured. “And neither is her dragon. You and I both know the bond doesn’t just guess. If they both felt it–both of their dragons?” She shook her head. “It would be insane for them to be wrong.”

He didn’t respond, but the weight in his eyes flickered–something breaking through the storm.

Saphira tilted her head slightly. “You’re scared. I get that. But this isn’t about control. It’s about trust. Zafira’s been through hell and made it back. Let her choose what feels right.”

Nikolas swallowed hard, glancing past her toward the window before his gaze dropped. He placed his hand lightly over hers where it rested on his arm.

“She’s my sister,” he murmured. “I just want her safe.”

Saphira gave a small, understanding smile. “And you’re a good brother. But love her enough to let her step toward what could heal her… not just what protects her.”

Nikolas remained still under Saphira’s hand, the hard line of his jaw slowly softening as her words settled into him. He didn’t speak right away–but the tension that had strung so tightly through his shoulders seemed to unravel, thread by thread.

“I just… I’ve seen how much she’s gone through,” he said at last, voice low. “If he’s not–if it’s not real–I don’t want her carrying another scar.”

Saphira’s expression was gentle but unwavering. “I know. And I love that you care so deeply. But she’s not naïve, Nikolas. She’s Zafira.”

He looked at her then–eyes full of storm and love, both.

Saphira gave his arm a small, grounding squeeze. “You have to let her make this choice for herself. She won’t do something unless she’s sure.”

He held her gaze, conflict still flickering behind his eyes. She leaned in just a touch more, voice quiet but firm.

“Don’t interfere,” she said. “Not because you don’t trust him–but because you have to trust her.”

Nikolas nodded slowly, his breath leaving him in a quiet exhale.

“Stop worrying,” she said gently, her thumb brushing lightly across the inside of his wrist. “They’ll reach out when it’s safe. Until then, pacing won’t call them home any faster.”

He gave a short breath of a laugh–more exhale than amusement–but didn’t argue She knew he wouldn’t. Not when part of him agreed.

Saphira tilted her head slightly, studying him, then softened her voice even further. “Do you want me to wait with you? Until you hear from him?”

Nikolas hesitated, eyes flicking away, always the one more used to holding than being held. “You don’t have to,” he said, the words quiet. “But, you can. If

you want.”

Saphira didn’t answer right away. She didn’t need to. She simply stepped closer and curled onto the corner of the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her and patting the space beside her

“I want to,” she said. “You need someone right now. And I’m already here.”

Nikolas joined her, slow and silent, letting the quiet between them settle not as tension—but as comfort.

No more pacing. Just waiting. Together.