“You have three mates,” Evon said, placing his palm on the side of my hip and offering a gentle squeeze. “And I would like to know how you say your name.”
“The report says, ‘Eye-zee-bee-la’?” Rager stood with a tablet of some sort in his hand, his brows drawn together in confusion. “I do not know this language.”
“I’m Bella. My name is Isabella Maria Santiago Martinez, but my friends call me Bella.”
“We are not your friends.” Evon spoke again, lifting a hand to stroke my cheek. “We are your mates. And you are Bella. Our Bella.”
I turned my head to look up at Liam who was watching me with complete acceptance of Evon’s words clearly written across his face. He had the gorgeous long black hair, like a Native American’s, sleek and smooth, almost blue beneath the industrial lighting. His eye
