Hands... Off.... Assistant....

The Paladin looked pressed by the last sentence but said. "Do not drag this joke on, Oliviér, you will not pull the trigg–"

Pow! Pow! 

Smoke emitted from the hole of the pistol.

Elizabeth flinched from the gunshot sound. He-he actually pulled the trigger? He had shot someone in the head in broad daylight.

"Oh my god-" Elizabeth's words became stuck in her throat upon moving her eyes to the "Paladin" that had been shot.

The man stood firmly, formerly gentle red eyes glaring intensely at the golden-red eyes man in front of him with a gun pressed against his head.

"You've truly lost your mind," The "Paladin's" deep voice reduced into a whisper, a crusty, and gravelly whisper.

Elizabeth, who had once again felt churns of heat in her stomach, was baffled. A threatening warmth had begun swirling in her stomach again, and out of habit she reached out to her face to touch her cheek. Since she was a child she had always felt a bitter-sweet warmth in her stomach when something…. Excited her. People told her, her olive colored timid face would turn red, which was not something most dark and tanned skinned Vieann was capable of.

She felt that her face had begun turning red at the moment but she could not understand why. Hair had risen at the back of her neck from fear of a dramatic showdown between two Alphas but that warmth… a soothing warm flame that would start by massaging the sensitive areas of her stomach, like a gentle sombre wind it was like…. Then slowly but surely it rose, turning from a gentle sombre wind to a raging fire, consuming her innards, scratching, gnawing, pricking her every nerve in her body until it felt her entire stomach had caught on fire.

She hated the feeling but loved the way it raised every sweet and sensitive nerve inside of her to a stimulating high. Hence the bitter-sweet feeling it gave her.

At the moment the fire had begun…. It was a simple gentle wind, soothing, cooling her body while it steadily pricked at her. She did not understand why a frightening scene was stimulating such an exhilarating feeling within her.

Her fingers pushed locks of her hair onto her fair, doing her best to cover the red painted on her face.

Oliviér's snarky voice broke her away from her reverie. "An empty pistol?" 

He narrowed his golden-red eyes towards the beta who he had snatched his pistol. "You keep an empty pistol with you?"

Oliviér had always been known by others for speaking in a low tone, even when he was angry. Other Alphas were usually known for being loud but Oliviér's voice was low with an impeccably deep baritone. Such a tone should be considered gentle, and calming but Oliviér's Lé Fóix had somehow made it a threatening issue to others.

The beta swallowed. 

"Fucking disgrace," Oliviér hissed. "Get out of my crime scene. See what you did? You made yourself lose your work." He threw the pistol at the Beta who was lost as to how he had suddenly lost his work.

"Oliviér! This is not just your crime scene anymore, you will not sack good workers because of a pissy fit."

Oliviér's fox-like golden-red eyes darted back to the "Paladin". "My crime scene trumps whatever it is you think you are doing here, why must you seek to always humiliate yourself?"

The "Paladin'' trotted closer than before, his heavy boots stomping on the ground. Elizabeth was getting antsy standing back and watching the scene.

"You take joy from testing my patience, Fóix?" 

Elizabeth's eyes trailed down to his hand. Black thick claws had teared through the gloves, baring out. This…..

"Nothing from you can ever give me joy." Oliviér replied, a deep voice vibrating with his.

"You-" The "Paladin" had raised a clawed hand.

The frown on the fair face of the "Paladin" deepened. He blinked, dropping his red eyes down at the thing that had blocked him from stepping closer.

He subconsciously backed his head away in slight shock from seeing the small thing that stood in his way. Standing in front of him was a tiny female. Her hands, and figure seemed frail to him despite Elizabeth being considered more voluptuous than others.

He trailed his eyes from her oddly pink hair, which was unruly and quite unsightly fallen down on her round meek face. Her glasses shielded her blue eyes…. An uncommon color between both Werewolves and Humans.

A cool air slapped against his face, the timidity that exuded from her breathed a new air around him, washing away the toxic one Oliviér had generated. The black claws slowly retracted, and those dark veins began to ease…. Slowly….. steadily they stopped racing, and began to beat softly, one beat at a time.

Badump… Badump….

One small hand slapped against her forehead, and he heard her voice. "Ouch…. Gods that hurt, are you made of rocks?" 

He could not help blinking comically once again. Her voice was sharper than he thought, with such a meek figure he never expected her to have such a snippy voice that reminded him of Oliviér and…. Made of rocks? Not something people said to his face everyday.

He exhaled. Stretching his hands forward and holding onto her arms.

He felt her jerk under his touch and such a close proximity allowed him to catch a small sniff of the faint scent of strawberries that wafted her body.

She gasped. "I mean… My apologies…. No, Good Morning? Not morning, Afternoon? Day! Day! Good day!"

He breathed through his nose, an involuntary laugh growing from his chest and forcing its way out of his mouth. "It is fine, are you okay?" He asked, assuming the gentle voice he used for others.

She was still too afraid to formulate the right words.

"I am Sebastién Wright and you are?" He gave his name, hoping to tame her uneasiness.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak but another voice cut her off. "Hands…. Off… Assistant…. Now." 

Elizabeth's nose scrunched up unattractively. Another pair of hands touched her. They roughly removed Sebastién's hands from her arms, and she felt herself being forcefully dragged towards someone else.

She slammed against the side of Oliviér and out of habit tsked, and whispered. "Bastard."

Luckily Oliviér, whose attention was carried by Sebastién, did not hear her words. 

"Interesting, Oliviér, I never expected someone as bitter as you to acquire such an assistant. She seems quite lovely for someone such as yourself." 

Oliviér huffed. "I know right? We would make quite the bitter-sweet pair, and what of your assistant again? Oh right she was sacked and beaten publicly by the church, at least her fate was much better than the others."

Sebastién's face fell at the remark.

Oliviér, though, would not stop. "Pardon, Paladin but I and my assistant are required at the Palace."

Elizabeth raised her head to look at Oliviér. "We are?" She asked.

Oliviér's lips twitched as her doe-like blue eyes gazed up at him, mystified by the glasses in front of them.

He unexpectedly felt an itch on his palm. He could not keep his hands to himself anymore.

Oliviér dropped his head down at her. He raised his hand, and grabbed the skin of her cheek in-between his fingers, pinching her softly. "Of course we are my sweet peasant," she squinted at him. "You and I are going to watch a man get murdered."