The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 7

Saphira keeps her voice steady, though the weight of her situation presses heavily against her chest. “I don’t want to be here any more than you do, and I don’t want a mating, especially a forced one. I just want to be free, even in the human world. Jed knew this, which is why he gave me protection.” She tries to explain, hoping he understands.

“How long have you known Jed?” His tone sharpens, laced with something dangerous.

“Not even two days,” she admits, forcing herself not to shrink under his glare. “He was the one who collected me and brought me here.” It’s the truth, but she can feel his anger crackling in the space between them.

“And he gave you protection after two days? Why? Did you promise him something?” His accusation is pointed, demanding.

“I don’t know why,” she says quickly. “He said he felt he needed to. I haven’t promised him anything, I swear.” She meets his gaze, willing him to believe her.

“I don’t believe you.” His voice is cold now, unforgiving. “I know him better than anyone, and that doesn’t sound like him.”

Then, suddenly, the realization slams into her with terrifying certainty. Out of all the people she could have been paired with, it had to be him. The one who has killed everyone.

“Oh goddess, you’re Nikolas Arrax, aren’t you?” The words tumble from Saphira’s lips before she can stop them.

The instant they leave her mouth, she is slammed against the wall. Pain jolts through her back as strong hands pin her shoulders in place, trapping her.

“How do you know my name? Who really sent you?” His voice is a sneer, razor-sharp with suspicion.

Even though he is right in front of her, his grip firm, unyielding, he turns his head away, keeping his face hidden from view. She strains to get a glimpse, but it’s useless. He is cloaked in a black hoodie, the shadows conspiring to keep his features obscured. But one thing is clear, he is impossibly strong.

“Jed told me,” she blurts out, willing her voice to remain steady. “I am not here for you. I had no choice.”

His grip doesn’t loosen.

“Jed knows not to mention my name,” Nikolas growls, his voice laced with something dark and dangerous. “Whether you have our protection or not. Now tell me the truth.”

Saphira barely breathes. She can feel his aura pressing against her, thick with power, an undeniable force that exudes danger in every pulse. The weight of it is suffocating.

“Ask him then,” Saphira pleads, her voice edged with desperation. “I’m telling you the truth. I swear, I don’t know why he told me, but it was at the same time he gave me the protection mark.”

Her heart pounds as she waits for his response, every second stretching unbearably. Then, suddenly, his grip loosens.

Without another word, he steps back, retreating into the shadows.

“Let me make this clear,” his voice comes, colder now, unwavering. “The only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because of Jed. Once I sort this out, that may not be the case. Just stay away from me.”

And then, he’s gone, swallowed by the darkness.

Saphira exhales sharply, realizing only now that she had been holding her breath. She steadies herself, relief washing over her that Nikolas hadn’t killed her... yet. But how long would that last? The thought lingers, unsettling, as she glances around the room.

Spotting a light switch, she flicks it on. The sudden illumination reveals the space in full, a small, confined area, barely offering any comfort. She casts her gaze toward the spot where Nikolas had disappeared and notices a door. The bedroom, she assumes.

Scanning the rest of the room, she finds only one other door. With cautious steps, she approaches and opens it, revealing a bathroom. That settles it, she would be sleeping on the sofa.

Lovely.

As if this situation wasn’t precarious enough, now she’d be an easy target. If Nikolas decided to kill her in her sleep, it certainly wouldn’t take much effort.

Once Saphira is certain Nikolas isn’t going to return and kill her, at least not immediately, she grabs her case and heads into the bathroom. The need to freshen up feels urgent after nearly two days of relentless travel.

She locks the door behind her, the click of the lock offering a small sense of security. Turning to the mirror, she takes in her reflection. Exhaustion stares back at her, her hair a tangled mess, dark circles etched beneath her eyes. She sighs. Nothing a shower and a good night’s sleep won’t fix, she tells herself, though the thought feels more like a hope than a certainty.

Digging into her bag, she retrieves her toiletries and steps into the shower. The moment the water hits her skin; it’s like a balm for her frayed nerves. The warmth washes over her, soothing the tension in her muscles and rinsing away the grime of the past two days.

For the first time in what feels like forever, she allows herself to breathe. But as the water cascades down, her mind races. So much has happened, so much has changed. How does anyone process this much mayhem without losing themselves entirely? The question lingers, unanswered, as the steam rises around her.

Saphira steps out of the shower, warmth lingering on her skin as she grabs her clothes. With limited options, she settles on her usual choice, leggings and an oversized t-shirt. Simple, comfortable.

She runs a brush through her damp hair, untangling the knots, before carefully plaiting it to one side. It’s grown quite long, she realizes, and after a proper wash, it looks healthier than ever.

Brushing her teeth, she takes a final glance at her reflection. The exhaustion is still there, faint beneath her eyes, but she looks better, more like herself. And, for the first time in days, she feels like she can breathe again. For how long would be any ones guess, but for now, she is alive.

Funny how something as simple as a shower can make all the difference.