The Matchmaker (by Sophie Smith) novel Chapter 87

CHAPTER 87

Saphira remained seated for a beat longer, her elbows on the table, fingers loosely interlaced, fler thoughts buzzed like state, hat one noted, Gerck

certain.

She stood. Turned toward him slowly.

Nikolas hadn’t moved from where he stood, arms folded loosely now, watching her with the same steady focus he always gave but she saw it. The mark behind his eyes. The one that knew what she was about to say.

“You need to teach me,” she said, voice firm. “To fight. Properly. Soon.”

Nikolas’s brows lifted slightly–not in surprise, but acknowledgment. “Not just flight drills anymore?”

Saphira stepped closer, the fire in her chest burning hotter now. “That was for survival,” she said. “But this–this is war. And I won’t watch it from the sidelines.”

Her gaze locked with his. “I need to be ready.”

Nikolas held her stare for a moment longer, then dipped his head once, slow, deliberate.

“Alright,” he said. “We start tomorrow.”

Nikolas crossed the space between them with quiet purpose, boots brushing the rug as the last threads of conversation faded. His eyes softened the moment they met hers–exhausted, yes, but full of unwavering clarity. He reached for her without hesitation, arms sliding around her waist like they’d been meant to hold her all along.

Saphira didn’t hesitate either. Her body found its place against his instantly, hands pressing flat against his chest, cheek resting on the solid curve of his shoulder. The heat of him bled through her skin, steady and grounding. She exhaled–slow, quiet–letting herself fold into the moment, letting it hold her like the world hadn’t been circling collapse.

“You’ve been through hell,” Nikolas murmured, breath brushing the crown of her head. His voice wasn’t pitying. It carried weight. Admiration. “And still… you’re standing. I admire your strength, Saphira. Especially now.”

Her arms tightened around him reflexively, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring herself there. If 1 let go, she thought, I’ll lose the tether. “Thank you,” she whispered against the crook of his collar. “That means more than I can say.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the hush between them–shared breath, quiet heartbeats, the safety of silence.

Then he eased back slightly, just enough to tilt her chin and meet her eyes directly. “Are you staying with me tonight,” he asked, casual but careful, “or in

your room?”

The question landed gently. But her pause made it heavier.

Saphira didn’t speak at first. Her eyes held his, steady and searching, her thoughts slipping between flickers of fear and clarity. Nikolas’s brows lifted, the faintest crease forming as he angled his head in question. “Saphira?”

She lifted a hand and brushed the line of his jaw, tracing the familiar curve of bone with tender certainty. “I want to stay,” she said.

Relief flickered in his features, that familiar half–smile appearing. “Good. So tonight-”

“No,” she said, cutting in softly. Her palm settled against his chest, over the beat of his heart. “I mean… stay. Permanently.”

Nikolas blinked, a flicker of surprise behind his eyes–and then careful warmth. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” he asked, lips curving slightly. “Because if so… try not to get my hopes up.”

“I am,” she said. “I want to move in with you. Fully. From now on.”

The silence between them stretched–but this time, it felt thick with something sacred. Nikolas’s expression shifted–not into disbelief, but into something tender, something awe–struck.

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CHAPTER 87

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Saphira nodded, her thumb brushing the thrum of his heart beneath her fingers. “You’re the one thing for sure about? de said, volza hay, threes through the room like a vow. “After everything. Dming all of it

Het breath caught slightly. “I love you.”

Nikolas’s exhale came slow, like it pulled through every piece of him before landing in the space between them. His hand lifted again, cupping or face, thumb brushing her cheek like he could carve the moment into her skin.

“I love you too,” he murmured, voice warm and tagged with truth. “More than I ever thought I could.”

The words weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be. They settled into her like a key turning in a lock she’d never known was waiting.

Saphira pulled him close, arms sliding up to lock behind his shoulders, forehead pressing gently to his. Her eyes fluttered closed, breath syncing with his, and for the first time in what felt like lifetimes–

Her heart didn’t brace. It rested. And this time, it was safe to do so.

Nikolas eased back from their quiet embrace, but his hands remained light on Saphira’s hips, grounding her in the lingering warmth between them. The glon behind his eyes hadn’t faded–not joy, exactly, but something close to it. Fulfilment. Possibility.

“Let’s get some food,” he said with a soft smile. “Then I’ll help you pack.”

Saphira gave a small, grateful nod, her voice still warm from everything that had just passed. “Good. I’m starving.”

They left the office together, walking shoulder to shoulder down the dim hallway. His fingers brushed hers every few steps–not an accident, not a habit. lust a quiet promise.

The dining room buzzed faintly with the comfort of evening meals. Warm light spilled across wide tables, and as they entered, Saphira’s gaze caught instantly on two familiar figures near the far window.

Asher and Zafira sat close, leaning in with bright smiles and animated gestures. Zafira’s cheeks were flushed with laughter, her expression open in a way Saphira hadn’t seen before. She looked radiant.

Zafira spotted them and waved enthusiastically, her arm gesturing toward the buffet line and then back to their table. Join us. Her grin said it all.

Saphira smiled, nudging Nikolas gently. “Looks like we’ve been summoned.”

They made their way to the buffet–platters lined the long table in abundance, fresh herbs steaming from roasted meats, colourful vegetables glistening beneath soft lighting. Saphira filled her plate methodically, and Nikolas did the same beside her, their movements a quiet dance of familiarity.

Then they walked together toward the window table and slid into seats across from Zafira and Asher.

“You look well,” Nikolas said, eyes flicking over Zafira with a kind edge.

Zafira’s face lit even more, but she said nothing–just glanced at Saphira across the table, their gazes locking in a brief, knowing exchange.

Saphira returned the smile. Of course she looked well. The lightness in her posture, the way Asher’s hand rested easily on her thigh, fingers brushing her wrist–of course.

Mate bond, Saphira thought, chest swelling with qujet joy. It changes everything.