Fated An Alpha Male Romance - K. Alex Walker Page 0,1

will not get along?

When I say that Ethan and Alexandra are rooted to each other, it’s simply a measure of matched energies. It’s like when you meet someone and feel like they are your kindred spirit or that there’s something drawing you to them. I can feel that, but from the outside. My grandmother called this a sensitivity. Here’s how it happens:

I’ll be sitting at the Starbucks on the corner not far from my son’s home watching a couple interact. It can be either a first date or hundredth date — I’ll instantly know whether or not they are suited for each other. Unfortunately, most of the time, I can’t do anything about it.

I’ve seen women whose bodies reflected so much heat when in the presence of a match that I’ve had to remove my own coat and start fanning with a paper towel. But many times, these are relationships that will never happen.

We all have the capability in different strengths. But, over time, most of us eventually pushed it to the back burner. As the world gets busier, we listen to our instincts less and less.

Alexandra and Ethan are rooted, but Alexandra is timid. Ethan, if given the opening, will love her until she starts questioning if she truly understands love. He will love her until she starts to see the love within herself. Alexandra, on the other hand, actively avoids how she feels about him because over the years, my son (her father) and daughter-in-law have taught her how to repress that energy. That feeling of heat in the blood. That raw attraction. That compelling need to be next to a particular person.

That was how I felt about my late husband, Ellis, and let me tell you…that kind of love is nothing like fire. Fire, you can douse. That kind of love is like perpetual energy; it never dies and it gives life to everything around you.

As I watch Alexandra and Ethan walk past each other, I can feel a sharp stab of heat along my fingertips. I can feel Ethan pull back from wanting to lightly touch her elbow, and Alexandra use a massive amount of strength to pull away from stepping into his chest. Their connection is stronger than any I’ve ever felt, and even stronger than that of my other granddaughter Gia, and her husband, Elliott Westwood.

It is possible that I feel Alexandra and Gia so strongly because they share my blood as my son’s only two children, but that only makes it more imperative that I don’t allow Alexandra to scissor through this connection. It must happen. One of the worst things in the world is for someone to make a poor decision, most of the time based on the insistence of others, and spend the rest of their lives cold. It has happened. I’ve seen it, and I’m sure you have as well in your own lives or lives of people that you know.

Now, I know at this point you’re thinking, “Old lady, don’t you dare interfere,” but…it’s too late. I’ve already mixed it and it’s sitting in the back of the ice chest at my son and his wife’s house where I’ve resided since my husband passed. This “it” is a drink that dates back years in my family but didn’t have a name until our family settled in the Bayou. The name is said to come from a time when lots of foods were associated with the “red” of nineteenth-century Juneteenth celebrations. The way my mother told it, she later gave it the name “Red Velvet Punch” because of its relation to the sweet confection Red Velvet Cake that had been weaving its way into being a staple in African American Culture. Whatever the history, all I know is that it is very potent and therefore must be given with care.

I’ve had my reservations about interfering between Ethan and Alexandra, but I’ve slept and prayed on it. All women deserve passion. Why have feelings if we don’t allow ourselves to delve into them? Why should we not have the benefit of feeling our deepest desires roaring hotly throughout every vein in our bodies?

But, like I said, the damage is done. The punch is made. I just hope that my little bit of mischief can stand up to my granddaughter’s hesitance. Ethan is the one for her; that certainty burns even within me.

But, please don’t think I’m wrong that even in Alexandra’s “current situation,” I still intervened. She needs this. I cannot