The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 59

Saphira and Nikolas walked slowly through the quiet night, their footsteps muffled against the soft earth. The pack grounds were breathtaking in the dark, the moon casting silver reflections against the treetops, the distant glow of lanterns flickering from the houses scattered along the landscape.

She wanted to take it all in, to let herself appreciate the stillness, the beauty. But her mind refused to settle.

Her dragon stirred uneasily within her, a familiar tension curling in her chest, nagging at her thoughts.

When Asher had hugged her, she felt it. Her dragon had reacted to something, something she didn’t understand. And the uncertainty gnawed at her, refusing to fade into the background.

She needed to talk to Nikolas about it, to figure out how to properly communicate with her dragon, to understand what was happening inside her.

*But how?*

She couldn’t exactly turn to him and say, *Hey Nikolas, what does it mean when my dragon had a strong reaction to another male dragon hugging me?*

That was… not going to work.

Her thoughts tangled further, frustration creeping in.

“Everything okay?” Nikolas’ voice pulled her from her spiral, and she blinked, realizing he was staring at her, watching her with quiet concern.

She straightened slightly, startled. “I… erm, yeah.”

But even she didn’t sound convinced.

“I need to ask—”

Before she could finish, a sudden rush of movement snapped her attention forward.

A doctor came running toward them, urgency carved into every step.

“Nikolas, come quickly, Zafira is waking.”

Saphira barely had time to process the words before Nikolas turned sharply, his eyes flashing, tension rippling through him.

His gaze flickered to her briefly before snapping back to the doctor.

Without hesitation, they ran.

The uncertainty in her chest was forgotten in an instant.

Whatever was happening, whatever her dragon had been trying to warn her about, it would have to wait.

Because right now, Zafira was waking. And nothing mattered more than that.

As soon as they entered the room, the atmosphere was charged with urgency.

Doctors surrounded Zafira’s bed, moving in practiced precision, conducting tests, adjusting monitors, exchanging quiet but hurried words. The air was thick with tension, with determination, with the weight of this moment.

Saphira and Nikolas stood back, watching, waiting.

She scanned the room quickly, noting that Asher and Anastasia were no longer there.

Confusion prickled at her. *Where did they go?*

Her gaze flickered toward the far corner, searching for any indication, any sign of where they might be, but before she could dwell on it, a doctor approached them.

“It won’t be long now,” he informed, his voice carrying a tone of reassurance. “We’ve moved the other patient into a private room, so you’ll have privacy when Zafira wakes.”

Saphira inhaled slowly, nodding once, trying to settle the nerves twisting in her stomach.

Nikolas was already speaking. “Thank you. Can you send someone to inform Jed?”

“Right away.”

The doctor turned, speaking quietly to a nurse, who then disappeared down the hall.

Saphira barely noticed, her focus entirely on Zafira.

Each second stretched unbearably.

Every movement from the doctors, every murmur of conversation, every shift in equipment felt slower than it should, like time itself was dragging.

Then abruptly the activity stopped. Like when Anastasia woke, every doctor stepped back.

Saphira’s breath caught.

Nikolas stiffened beside her. “What’s happening?”

One of the doctors turned, his expression composed. “Now we wait for her to wake on her own. It should be imminent.”

The silence stretched between them, thick with anticipation.

Saphira kept her eyes locked on Zafira’s still form, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Then she saw it. The smallest movement.

A stir. A twitch in Zafira’s fingers, a faint change in her breathing.

Saphira reacted instantly, reaching for Nikolas’ hand, gripping it tightly, squeezing.

“This is it,” she whispered, unable to contain the surge of emotion rising within her.

Nikolas barely breathed.

Finally Zafira’s eyelids fluttered. And she opened her eyes.

Nikolas moved instantly, crossing the room in long, purposeful strides, his entire focus narrowing to only Zafira.

Saphira stayed back, watching as he reached her bedside, his hands gripping the railing.

Zafira’s eyes flickered, shifting from blurred confusion to quiet relief, then, hesitation.

She scanned the room, her gaze darting between the unfamiliar surroundings, her brows pulling together slightly, as if trying to piece together something missing.

She didn’t speak.

Didn’t react beyond the careful flicker of expression running across her features.

Nikolas exhaled, trying to keep his voice calm. “Jed is on his way,” he told her, his words careful. “You’re safe now.”

Still, Zafira gave no response.

His eyes darkened slightly, his jaw tightening just enough for Saphira to notice before he turned to the nearest doctor.

“She isn’t speaking,” Nikolas murmured, the concern threading beneath his voice not fully visible, but it was there.

The doctor nodded, his posture composed but carrying an edge of caution.

“She was trapped in her dragon form for an extremely prolonged period,” he explained. “That kind of forced transformation, especially for that long, can have lasting effects.”

Nikolas straightened further, tension rippling through his stance. “What kind of effects?”

“Her speech may be affected temporarily, her mood might change quickly,” the doctor said, his voice steady. “It’s difficult to say exactly how long, but it isn’t uncommon. She needs time.”

Saphira inhaled slowly, absorbing the words, feeling her dragon hum inside her, not restless, but aware.

Nikolas exhaled through his nose, turning back toward Zafira, studying her closely now.

She was watching them, listening, aware, but still silent.

Saphira felt the unspoken tension thicken in the room, the weight of uncertainty pressing against them all.

But Nikolas didn’t pull away.

Didn’t leave.

Instead, Nikolas reached for Zafira’s hand, curling his fingers gently over hers, his grip firm but careful.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice carrying quiet strength, reassurance woven into every syllable.

Saphira hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, closing the last bit of distance between them.

Without a word, she placed a hand on Nikolas’ back, a silent acknowledgment, a quiet promise.

They were both here for her.