Although a baser part of Damon had taken over, he still had enough sense to step toward the door and shut it firmly. The wind howled it's complaint against the wood, but had no recourse against Damon's vampire strength, even weakened.
"Thank you, Sir," the man panted, leaning against the wall, and looking close to falling. Damon kept himself between the man and the door.
"My Master..." the man stuttered, trying to catch his breath. "He sent me out... hoping to find... some food."
His eyes were clearly focused more on the tinned food along the wall, instead of on Damon. The slave, and Damon now knew he was one, never even saw his fate coming. One moment Damon was near the door, and the next he had the young man in his grasp. He easily tore the jacket to the side, and buried his teeth in the slave's jugular. The man was cold, but his blood was still hot, and it gushed over Damon's tongue, spilling out the sides of his lips.