The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 187

The dining room of the Cinderwood pack house was grand, vaulted ceilings arched overhead like cathedral ribs, and long polished tables stretched across the space, gleaming under soft amber lighting. Saphira stepped inside beside Nikolas, her boots whispering against the stone floor. Her posture was composed, but every sense was alert.

The scent of roasted meat and herbs drifted from the far end of the hall, warm and inviting. But it wasn’t the food that caught her attention, it was the atmosphere.

*Too calm. Too curated.*

Alpha James stood at the head of the table, his smile wide, his stance relaxed in a way that felt rehearsed. “Please, make yourselves comfortable,” he said, gesturing toward the seats. “Our kitchen staff will serve dinner shortly.”

Nikolas nodded politely and pulled out a chair for Saphira. She murmured a quiet “thank you” and sat, smoothing her cloak as she settled in. Nikolas took the seat beside her, his expression unreadable. Their warriors were positioned further down the table, quiet, watchful, their eyes scanning the room with the same suspicion she felt tightening in her chest.

Saphira’s gaze swept the dining hall. The table was set for at least thirty, silverware gleamed, crystal glasses caught the light like stars. But only a handful of pack members were present. No children. No elderly. No signs of strain or grief. Just polished smiles and perfect warriors.

James took his seat with a flourish, his voice smooth and practiced. “I’m proud of what we’ve built here,” he began, folding his hands on the table. “Cinderwood has always been resilient. Even after the attack, we’ve kept our traditions strong. Our warriors are disciplined. Our healers are some of the best in the region. And our territory?” He smiled wider. “Untouched by corruption.”

Saphira reached for her glass, fingers curling slightly around the stem. Untouched? Her eyes flicked to Nikolas, who gave the faintest shake of his head. He’d caught it too.

James continued, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice. “We’ve maintained purity in our ranks. No internal conflict. No confusion. Just strength. Unity. Loyalty.”

Saphira’s spine stiffened. *Purity*. The word echoed in her mind like a warning bell. Her grip on the glass tightened.

Nikolas leaned slightly toward her, his shoulder brushing hers. His voice brushed her mind, low and steady. *“He’s testing us. Or preaching.”*

*“Or both,”* she replied, her gaze steady on James. *“He’s proud of something that feels… wrong.”*

James gestured toward the far end of the room, where servers began to emerge with trays of food, roasted meats, seasoned vegetables, fresh bread. The presentation was flawless.

“You’ll find our hospitality unmatched,” James said, lifting his glass. “We believe in honouring our guests. Especially those with reputations like yours.”

Saphira offered a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. *Reputation,* she thought. *Or a silent threat?*

The first plates were set down, steam curling into the air. James leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with something that felt too close to amusement.

“I must say, Alpha Arrax,” he said, “I know I mentioned it before, but I never imagined you’d take a mate. Let alone bring her here. It speaks volumes.”

Nikolas’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained cool. “Things change.”

James chuckled, lifting his glass in a mock toast. “Indeed, they do.”

Saphira took a slow sip of water, her gaze steady, her thoughts swirling beneath the surface. *He’s watching us. Measuring us. And every word is a thread in something bigger.*

She glanced at Nikolas again, and this time, he met her eyes. No words passed between them, but the message was clear.

The clink of cutlery and the low hum of conversation filled the dining hall, a soft orchestration of civility that felt increasingly surreal. Saphira sat beside Nikolas, her plate half-finished. The roasted meat was tender, spiced with something unfamiliar, just enough to mask a faint bitterness that lingered on her tongue. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin, smiling politely as one of the Betas across the table animatedly recounted a story about a border patrol gone wrong, something about a bear, a broken fence, and a very confused scout.

She laughed softly at the right moment, her fingers brushing the rim of her glass, but her focus was elsewhere. Her gaze drifted across the table, scanning each face. Still only wolves. Still too polished. Too calm. No signs of strain. No grief. No tension. *No truth.*

Nikolas leaned slightly toward her, his voice low. “Seasoning’s stronger than expected,” he murmured, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

Saphira nodded, lifting her glass again. The water felt heavier in her hand than it had before. She took a sip, and the moment it touched her throat, something shifted.

It hit her slowly, like fog rolling in over a quiet field. Her limbs grew heavier, her thoughts just a beat slower. The warmth in her chest turned thick, syrupy, wrong. Her fingers trembled slightly as she set the glass down.

*“Nikolas,”* she mind-linked, her mental voice tight and urgent. *“Something’s wrong. I feel… off.”*

There was a pause. Then his voice, low and sharp, cut through the haze. *“I feel it too.”*

She turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes. The worry there was real, raw and vulnerable. He didn’t bother to hide it. His gaze dropped to his plate, then lifted slowly to Alpha James.

James was watching them.

And he was smiling.

Nikolas’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking once. *“We’ve been poisoned,”* he sent, his voice like steel wrapped in velvet. *“And I’d bet anything our warriors are already being held somewhere. Separated. Disarmed.”*

Saphira’s heart pounded, but her face remained composed. She shifted slightly in her seat, her hand brushing against Nikolas’s under the table. *“What do we do?”*

He took her hand in his, his grip firm. *“Stay calm,”* he said, through the link. His thumb brushed her knuckles once, a quiet reassurance. *“We’ll be unconscious soon. But when we wake, we fight. Hard.”*

Saphira nodded once, her breath shallow. The edges of her vision were beginning to blur, the candlelight smearing into gold halos. Her skin felt too warm, her thoughts too slow. She focused on the warmth of his hand, the steady pulse beneath his skin.

*“I’m scared,”* she told him, her voice a whisper in his mind.

Nikolas didn’t reply with words. But his grip tightened, he was too.

Across the table, Alpha James raised his glass in a silent toast, his smile widening with quiet satisfaction.

And the world began to tilt.

A wave of intense fear washed over Saphira. *So, were they going to die?*