Now

After dropping of the car at the regular place, a mansion that was ostensibly a bed and breakfast but was really a front for Raith family operations, Kevin decided to stay out a while longer. He changed his clothing, selecting a pair of black leather pants and a soft white V-neck tee, both of which showcased his long, lithe form, and then called his father to let him know where he was.

His father answered on the third ring, and his voice, welcome and familiar, brought relief to wash over Kevin. It was like feeling the warmth of the sun on his face on the first nice spring day after a long, harsh winter. The past few months had been incredibly draining, a constant struggle through unknown territory, and Kevin was sure he would have been lost if he hadn't had his dad to lean on.

"I just finished up a meeting regarding the Unseelie Accords. I'll wait up for you," his dad said fondly.

"You don't need to do that," Kevin protested. "Don't stress because of me, Dad."

"I want to make sure you're all right after all of this." His father's tone was firm.

"Fine," Kevin conceded. "I'll be home by midnight."

"Take care," his father said, and they proceeded to exchange goodbyes.

Then Kevin went out to find food.

Lara had advised him on familiarizing himself with whatever club scene there was to be found in the the Riverdale area, telling him the continuous energy of the crowd was ideal for feeding, for luring mortals in.

Kevin had never been one for clubs, though. The crowded dancefloor, pounding music, and frantic atmosphere always made him feel claustrophobic. And even with beauty and allure he now held as a full-fledged White Court vampire, that hadn't changed. He preferred bars, the ones that allowed for privacy and anonymity. He was careful never to visit the same one too often, not to make himself a recognizable face at any of them, instead wanting to keep a low profile. He wasn't there to socialize; he was there to replenish himself.

The Whyte Wyrm was the quintessential dive bar, housing endless chipped surfaces, clouds of acrid tobacco smoke, and Riverdale's local gang, the Southside Serpents. But that was why Kevin liked it. He had a type that he found best for feeding: the really macho, aggressive sort of men, the ones who thought they were threatening, the ones who wanted to leave him with all sorts of bruises and bitemarks. The more they wanted to dominate him, the more they tried, the better he fed.

The Raith vampires of the White Court didn't sustain themselves on sex in itself—the act was only their favorite method of transfer. It was the attached energy that gave them strength; they fed on the lust, the desire, the mutually inclusive intimacy.

That was why they could increase and induce desire. The more someone wanted them, the more they were able to take.

Kevin was slow operator. He didn't like to be obvious in seeking his prey by strutting in with his glamour on full force, drawing every eye in the room. Instead, he kept his glamour at a low level, catching some attention but not the majority, settled at a corner table, ordered a drink, and let the men come to him.

He wasn't much for the chase, which disappointed Lara. He more enjoyed being chased, though sometimes he had to fight to remind himself of that. When he entered a crowded area with his Hunger awakened, all of the faces blended together into little more than blurry forms of energy. Energy for him to consume. Those were the time when he wanted to cast aside all caution and just feast on whatever person closest.

After all, they would enjoy the process.

But discipline was essential to his survival, to going unnoticed. So he needed to be patient and let the prey come to him.

It wasn't a long wait before someone approached his table, though Kevin hadn't expected this particular individual to show an interest.

"Well, well, well," FP Jones drawled "Look who's all grown up." He looked Kevin up and down as he took the seat across from him, not bothering to disguise his blatant lust.

"Mr. Jones," Kevin said neutrally, even as his heart began pounding. He normally just hooked up with strangers—he'd tried only once with someone he'd known, and the results had been disappointing, to say the least. "Good to see you."

"Yeah, nice to see you, too, kid. I mean it. God damn , you look good," FP said appreciatively.

Kevin knew that he did. The awakening of his Hunger had been nothing short of miraculous to his outward appearance. His hair had lightened to a gleaming wheat gold, and, at Lara's instruction, he wore it loose, free of any type of gel. His eyes had changed to a shade somewhere between blue and lilac, and his fair skin, pale and perfect, now held the same radiant moonlit glow as the other vampires of the Raith family. While he still didn't have Lara's sensuous, serpentine grace, he knew just how to put his slim body on display. Now he instinctively angled and arched to make everyone around him think of nothing but all they would sacrifice to be with him just once.

Still, he was reluctant to again feed from someone he knew, especially since this person was the father of a former friend of his.

But Kevin was tired, and he was well aware that he needed to revitalize himself soon.

So he easily slipped out of his seat and sauntered over to over FP, who reflexively leaned back in his chair to watch him move. Languidly draping himself across FP's lap, Kevin pressed a soft kiss to his lips and then his throat, before leaning down to nuzzle his face against his neck, knowing that even the slightest touch would drive the man wild.

"Why don't you take me upstairs, so you can see all of me?" he whispered breathily into FP's ear.

He could feel the vibrations of FP's throat as the other groaned in anticipation, as well as the man's erection as he grew hard in his jeans, and then FP briefly pushed him away and off of him so they both could stand. Without wasting any time, FP pulled him close once more, tightening his arm around Kevin's middle as he guided him towards the stairs with no hesitation.

They moved quickly—FP was eager, but then again, weren't they all? Without hesitating a moment, FP had steered him up the stairs and into a darkened room, not bothering to turn on the lights before pushing him down onto the bed.

"Gorgeous," FP murmured, cupping Kevin's head with a hand as he drew him into a solid kiss.

The hand at the nape of his neck suddenly prompted a memory to float to the front of his mind, and Kevin was brought back to the time when he was six and had taken a soccer ball straight to the face during a peewee game. Since Jughead was playing for the same team, FP had been there as well. He'd been the first parent to spot Kevin and his bloody nose and hadn't hesitated to pull Kevin off the field. Grabbing a handful of tissues and holding them to Kevin's face with one hand, he'd knelt down beside him and used the other hand to keep Kevin from leaning his head back. The whole time, FP talked him through the injury, reassuring him that everything would be all right, that he just needed to stay calm and listen to him. And even though Kevin had been hurt, he hadn't been scared, because there was a grown-up there to take care of him, to protect him if he needed.

Closing his eyes as FP climbed on top of him, Kevin made up his mind to pretend the touches on his neck weren't from empty lust he himself had fabricated, but from the same kind of genuine care, the same freely offered comfort.

Then

Kevin didn't think of Lara as his mother. Not once, not ever.

Part of the reason was because he'd never felt any type of longing for a mother. His father had raised him on his own, fulfilling the roles of both parents and never once complaining, even though Kevin realized once he was older that raising any child, but particularly himself, was an exhausting task to complete entirely on one's own. But Tom Keller had seen that Kevin never wanted for anything, either tangible or intangible, and certainly not affection. Kevin may not have had a mother, but he had a father, and Kevin loved him with every single fiber of his being, and he more than knew that love was returned. They were each other's entire family and happy for it; there were no empty gaps, no missing pieces. "Mother" simply wasn't a role in Kevin's life that he'd ever thought required fulfillment.

But moreover, Lara was not motherly in the slightest. It just wasn't her style. Every action of hers was carefully calculated, every word she ever spoke to him was pre-planned in order to push him toward one desired path, every thought that included him focused on how she could use him for her own purposes. There was never any genuine affection or unselfish motivations where he was concerned. Nothing she did was to help him or take care of him; it was ultimately all grooming him to help her both in the near and far future.

It was a strange disconnect, though. She was supplying him with clothing, teaching him how to function with his new physiology, instructing him on tasks in need of completion, and rewarding him when he was successful. She soon supplied him with a car as well, the latest Audi model in black, for when the missions required transportation.

She was acting similar to how a parent would, at least on a surface level. And yet, there was always a distance, one that felt almost professional and certainly deliberate, on Lara's behalf.

"I can't be with you very frequently," she'd told him outright after informing him she would be managing his training. "My father relies on me to handle the main aspects of our family's business dealings, so I can only visit you as relevant travel allows."

What she didn't say at the time, but would later become clear, was that she was also wary of someone tracking her visits and determining exactly who and what Kevin was to Lara. The Raiths had many enemies, some of which were within the family itself.

As time went on, Kevin's position in Lara's life was increasingly apparent: he was an asset, another one of her agents, but far away enough from the Raith family in Chicago that his actions could go unnoticed and unanswered for. With his association to the Raiths almost completely unknown, Lara could have him do as she pleased without being expected to explain herself, nor have the results at all tied back to her. Through him, Lara could violate truces, backtrack on bargains, and ignore promises. He was her unseen right hand man.

But he was not indispensable, nor was he her first priority. He was valuable to her, but certainly not priceless. At the end of the day, she would readily sacrifice him to save herself if she had the slightest inkling that was what the situation required.

And that was nothing like the only parent he'd had. Kevin knew beyond a doubt that his father would do anything to keep him safe, to take care of him. To think of Lara as a parent when he knew she'd sell him down the river to save her own skin went against everything Kevin valued, everything he'd been taught. He didn't want Lara as a mother; he was perfectly fine with her being a distant mentor.

Kevin would die to protect his father. His father would die to protect him. Lara would kill either one of them or both in half a second to protect herself.