The Matchmaker (by Sophie Smith) novel Chapter 80

Sunlight streamed through the window in slender fibbons, casting gold along the edge of the bedsheets, Saghire Wicked exce beneath the warm weight of the blanket. The morning was calm, still wrapped in the softness of a night withovers on d

Nikolas emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung around his neck, hair still damp. He glanced over and smiled, eyes get borse ‘bran

She hummed in reply, voice still sleep–warmed, “Morning.”

He crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed, resting a hand lightly on her call through the Market, “the you have a good care

Saphira’s lips tugged into a grin. “I did. You?”

He gave a mock groan. “Other than being humiliated at my own game? Absolutely,”

She laughed, propping herself up on her elbows. “You weren’t that bad.”

Nikolas lifted a brow. “You and Talia annihilated us. I haven’t seen Sam look that betrayed since someone drank his last coffee.

“That was a good team–up,” she mused, remembering the way she and Talia had clicked the first game night they had–mark and strategy wosen to move in the game room. “Girl’s rule, boys sulk.”

“She did throw that last card with a little too much dramatic flair,” Nikolas muttered.

Saphira smirked, then tilted her head. “Speaking of Talia–why does Sam keep teasing her about Jasper? He said something about moody stares and unspoken longing‘ like he was quoting some bad romance novel.”

Nikolas exhaled a short laugh, leaning back against the headboard. “Honestly? I don’t know the full story. But there’s something weird going on there. The way they circle around each other… it’s like they’re trying not to acknowledge something that’s already screaming between them.”

“You think they’re mates?” she asked, brows raising slightly.

“I think they might be,” he said. “Or they could’ve been. There’s tension, for sure–but neither of them will admit to anything. They barely even made ee contact when they’re in the same room. And then suddenly they’re arguing over the last apple like it’s a metaphor for their entire relationshopp

Saphira grinned, drawing the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she settled back beside him. “Well. That sounds like a they problem.”

Nikolas chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Definitely not volunteering to referee that.”

Saphira stood near the dresser, one arm through her shirt, hair still sleep–mussed as she buttoned it up slowly. Light pooled across the floor in pale gold, catching the edge of Nikolas‘ reflection in the mirror as he rolled down his sleeves.

“What’s on your grand Alpha agenda today?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder with a small smirk.

Nikolas let out an exaggerated sigh and crossed the room in two strides, his hands suddenly at her waist before she could step away. “A thrilling day of pack finances,” he said, his voice a touch too solemn to be sincere. Then, without warning, he pulled her down onto the bed in a sweeping movement, the two of them landing with a bounce.

Saphira let out a startled laugh as she fell back into the pillows, her braid flopping over her shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And underappreciated,” he said, bracing himself above her briefly before brushing his nose against hers.

She grinned and gently pushed at his chest until he rolled to the side, the bed creaking beneath them. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to your spreadsheets and misery,”

Nikolas lifted a brow. “And you? What’s on your non–boring list?”

She propped herself up on one elbow. “I was going to stop by and see Anastasia. She’s out of the hospital now. It feels like the right time to talk

He watched her for a beat, something thoughtful passing through his expression.

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CHAPTER 80

“But,” she added, “I could help with paperwork after. If you want.”

Nikolas shook his head slowly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “No–you should go. Build that relationship. She deserves the chance, and so do you.”

Saphira looked at him, the quiet sincerity in his tone warming something deep in her chest.

“You trust her?” she asked softly.

“I think she’s proven she can be trusted,” Nikolas said. “And I think she wants to make things right. Or at least… be part of your world, however you’ll let her.”

Saphira nodded slowly, pressing her fingers into the edge of the pillow. She hadn’t fully admitted how much that visit meant. But now, with his quiet support behind her, it didn’t feel so heavy. Just necessary.

Saphira had just shifted beside him to fix the cuff of her sleeve, her weight propped on one elbow, when Nikolas reached for her with zero warning- sliding behind her back as he pulled her flush against him.

She let out a quiet, breathy “oof” as she landed partially atop him, her braid slipping forward against his chest.

“Was that necessary?” she asked, though her lips were already curling into a smile.

“Completely,” he murmured, one hand curling around her hip as the other found its way to the back of her neck. He kissed her–stow and intent–like he had nowhere else to be, like the entire day could wait on this moment.

Then, with a motion so smooth it made her laugh, he rolled, flipping them so she was beneath him, hair fanned across the pillow, breath caught half between amusement and heat.

“Nikolas,” she said between a laugh and a gasp, eyes wide with mock sternness, “you do realize you’re not getting much work done in this position.”

He chuckled, the sound low and entirely unapologetic. “On the contrary,” he said, leaning in, brushing his mouth just above hers. “This might be my most productive moment all day.”

And then he kissed her again–deeper this time, the kind that made her forget about the world around them.

They lay there a moment longer before finally stirring. Nikolas sat up first, brushing a kiss against her temple before standing to finish dressing, and Saphira followed, smoothing her shirt and reaching for her boots with practiced ease.

When they stepped into the hallway, the kitchens.

hum of pack life had already begun to rise–footsteps, murmured greetings, the occasional clash of dishes from the

As they reached the hallway outside Anastasia’s room, Nikolas stopped, turning to face her. His thumb brushed lightly across the edge of her sleeve.

“Meet me after?” he asked. “The clearing. Just after two. I want to work with your dragon a little–get a sense of how you’re syncing before Jed gets back.”

Saphira smiled, something steady warming in her chest. “I’ll be there.”

He kissed her then, slow and brief, before stepping back and letting her go.