Northstar Vale That man is not your maker

She was struggling, small ivory paws scrambling to get a footing while her head tried to jerk backward out of the water, not that Takeshi would dare allow that. He knew once more how sick he was- all he could feel was the arousal in his gut, watching her try to uselessly save herself. Women severely suffering- it was his favorite genre of fun. Gurgling like a fish in the water, trying to find air to breath- 

There were eyes on him, but he didn't feel it. He was far too focused on this pleasure. 

And then- ripped away! Teeth at his scruff; when he couldn't see the wolf initially, he thought some god had decided to stop the devil in his path. No, no god- just a mess of brown fur (he was too busy being knocked around to get a good look at the bastard.) It was only after a moment that he realized he no longer had the pretty pearl in his grasp- and even as he was thrown to the earth,  feeling the collision with his head likely break some skin, tried desperately to escape in the direction of his little girl. He needed her- needed to hold her, and to kill her, in a twisted sort of last wish.