Ruin: Revelations by Lucian Bane

she whispered in disbelief. “He really reset him, didn’t he! Why didn’t he tell me he meant back to factory setting!?”

Chapter Twelve
     
    She sat him on the bed, opened the book and rapped her finger on the page for him to look. He did and immediately stood and began to walk and read, aloud. She let out a gasp of relief and sat as he continued to walk the room and orally recite what he saw. Soon his recital turned to mumblings as he turned page after page while Isadore marveled. He was back to square one? The idea was disheartening. He didn’t remember her, which meant . . . he didn’t remember . . . anything they’d done?
    She put her head in her hands, surprised with the pain that brought to her chest. It’s not as if they had a whole lot of memories but . . . she liked their memories. They were so amazing and . . . unique, to her at least. The rescue, their . . . first intimacies. She prayed he’d get those back at least.
    Thirty minutes of silence and he finally said. “I can understand. I can read.” He sounded astonished and shut the book. “Do you have more? I don’t remember anything before today. That’s not normal.”
    She stood and blocked his path. “No, it’s not normal.” She put her hands on his chest and he looked down at them then back at her.
    “I know you.”
    She nodded, excited. “Yes. You do.”
    “I mean . . . I know your touch. Do you understand?”
    She nodded. “Yes, yes I understand. I think. Discriminative touch is a sensory modality that allows you to sense and localize touch and the form of touch where localization is not possible is known as crude touch, or a sensory modality which allows one to sense that something has touched them, but without being able to localize where they were touched. Does that make sense?”
    He angled his head and stepped closer to her. “It makes sense, yes. But . . . it’s not what I’m referring to.” His gaze roamed with open hunger over her face until her heart skittered in her chest. “I know that I very much like you. Those words you just said . . . ” he stroked along her cheek. “Has . . . me needing to taste you everywhere, until you make those sounds that . . . make my body hot and extremely hard and desperate to . . . put this in you.” She felt him stroking himself as he slid his thumb over her lower lip. “I want to touch your mouth with my . . . ” his brows narrowed as he struggled. “ . . . cock.”
    Isadore whimpered and swallowed. That was . . . some powerful memories.
    “It’s like . . . my body remembers things that I don’t recall.”
    Isadore fought to focus on his words and not the sweep of his tongue over his lower lip as he grew hungrier right before her eyes before mumbling, “Then . . . you’re talking about retrograde amnesia. It targets your most recent memories first. The more severe the case, the farther back in time the memory loss extends. This pattern of destroying newer memories before older ones is called Ribot’s law.”
    “Keep talking,” he whispered, roaming his hands along her arms as he stared into her eyes.
    “I-it happens because . . . because the neural pathways of newer memories are not as strong as older ones that have been strengthened by years of retrieval.” She realized that in his case, he didn’t have years of retrieval. She realized in fact that she wasn’t sure what he was experiencing but was sure whatever came out of her mouth next would make no sense whatsoever with his hands exploring her ass now.
    “You feel really good here. I remember this part of you. I like it very much. Can you undress so I can remember more?”
    She only managed a whimper as his lips asked nicely along her jaw in small kisses.
    “Why should I like eating you, I know that isn’t right either. But it seems I do—I want to literally taste you with my lips and tongue.” He held her face in his hands and studied every aspect of it. “But